PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.

THO' Actors cannot much of Learning (The ready Finger lays on every Blot ;

Nature her self lyes open to your view, You judge by her what draught of her is true,

Where Out-lines false, and Colours seem too
faint,

Where Bunglers dawb, and where true Poets
Paint.

But by the sacred Genius of this Place,
By every Muse, by each Domestick Grace,
Be kind to Wit, which but endeavours well,
And, where you judge, presumes not to
excel.

Our Poets hither for Adoption come,
As Nations su'd to be made free of Rome : 30
Not in the suffragating Tribes to stand,
But in your utmost, last, Provincial Band.
If his Ambition may those Hopes pursue,
Who with Religion loves your Arts and you,
Oxford to him a dearer Name shall be,
Than his own Mother University.
Thebes did his green unknowing Youth in-
gage,

He chuses Athens in his riper Age.

PROLOGUE.

TO THE UNHAPPY FAVOURITE.

SPOKEN TO THE KING AND THE QUEEN AT THEIR COMING TO THE HOUSE.

WHEN first the Ark was landed on the
Shore,

And Heav'n had vowed to curse the Ground
no more,

When Tops of Hills the longing Patriark

Who bring the Olive, and who Plant it here.
We have before our Eyes the Royal Dove,
Still Innocence is Harbinger to Love.
The Ark is open'd to dismiss the Train,
And people with a better Race the Plain.
Tell me, you Pow'rs, why should vain Man
pursue

With endless Toyl each object that is new,
And for the seeming Substance leave the)
true?

Why should he quit for Hopes his certain good,

And loath the Manna of his daily food?

THE UNHAPPY FAVOURITE, 1682. Printed in the Miscellanies of 1684 and with the play, which is by Banks, in 1685.

EPILOGUE TO THE UNHAPPY FAVOURITE,
OR THE EARL OF ESSEX.

WE act by Fits and Starts, like drowning
Men,

But just peep up, and then Dop down again.
Let those who call us Wicked change their
Sence,

For never Men liv'd more on Providence.
Not Lott'ry Cavaliers are half so poor,
Nor Broken Cits, nor a Vacation Whore ;
Not Courts, nor Courtiers living on the Rents
Of the three last ungiving Parliaments;
So wretched, that, if Pharaoh could Divine,
He might have spar'd his Dream of Seven
lean Kine,

ΙΟ

And chang'd his Vision for the Muses Nine.)
The Comet which, they say, portends a Dearth
Was but a Vapour drawn from Play-house
Earth,

Pent there since our last Fire, and Lilly sayes,
Foreshows our change of State and thin
Third-dayes.

"Tis not our want of Wit that keeps us poor,
For then the Printers Press would suffer
more.

Their Pamphleteers each Day their Venom
spit;

They thrive by Treason, and we starve by
Wit.

19

EPILOGUE TO THE UNHAPPY FAVOURITE.
2 Dop] Editors till Christie give pop
18 each Day their Venom] their Venom daily

1685.

Confess the truth, which of you has not laid
Four Farthings out to buy the
Hatfield Maid?
Or, what is duller yet and more
does spite us,

To the upper

Gallery.

Democritus his Wars with Heraclitus?
These are the Authors that have run us

down,

And Exercise you Critticks of the Town.
Yet these are Pearls to your Lampooning
Rhimes,

Y' abuse your selves more dully than the
Times.

Scandal, the Glory of the English Nation,
Is worn to Raggs, and Scribled out of
Fashion;

Such harmless Thrusts as if like Fencers
Wise,

30

You had agreed your Play before their
Prize.

Faith, you may hang your Harps upon the
Willows,

'Tis just like Children when they box with
Pillows.

Then put an end to Civil Wars for
shame,

Let each Knight Errant who has wrong'd a
Dame

Throw down his Pen and give her if he

can,

The satisfaction of a Gentleman.

PROLOGUE.

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS UPON HIS FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE DUKE'S

THEATRE SINCE HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND.

IN those cold Regions which no Summers | The friends of Job, who rail'd at him before, chear, Came Cap in hand when he had three times

When brooding darkness covers half the year,
To hollow Caves the shivering Natives go,
Bears range abroad and hunt in tracks of
Snow;

But when the tedious Twilight wears away
And Stars grow paler at the approach of Day,
The longing crowds to frozen Mountains run,
Happy who first can see the glimmering Sun;
The surly Salvage Off-spring disappear;
And curse the bright Successor of the Year.
Yet though rough Bears in covert seek
defence,

II

more.

Yet, late Repentance may perhaps be true;
Kings can forgive, if Rebels can but sue.
A Tyrant's Pow'r in rigour is exprest:
The Father yearns in the true Prince's breast.
We grant an Ore'grown Whig no grace can
mend,
30

But most are Babes that know not they
offend.

The Crowd, to restless motion still enclin'd,
Are clouds that rack according to the wind.
Driv'n by their Chiefs, they storms of Hail-
stones pour,

Then mourn, and soften to a silent showre.
O welcome to this much offending land
The Prince that brings forgiveness in his
hand!

Thus Angels on glad messages appear;
Their first Salute commands us not to fear:
Thus Heav'n, that cou'd constrain us to
obey,

40

(With rev'rence if we might presume to say,)

Seems to relax the rights of Sov'reign
sway,

Permits to Man the choice of Good and Ill,
And makes us Happy by our own Free-will.

PROLOGUE

TO THE DUCHESS ON HER RETURN FROM SCOTLAND.

WHEN factious Rage to cruel Exile drove
The Queen of Beauty, and the Court of Love,
The Muses droop'd with their forsaken Arts,
And the sad Cupids broke their useless Darts.
Our fruitful Plains to Wilds and Deserts
turn'd,

Like Eden's Face when banish'd Man it
mourned:

Love was no more when Loyalty was gone,
The great Supporter of his awful Throne.

PROLOGUE TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, 1682. 2 When] Editors till Christie give Where 33 racks Editors till Christie give tack

Love could no longer after Beauty stay,
But wander'd northward to the Verge of
Day,

As if the Sun and he had lost their
Way.

II

But now the illustrious Nymph, return'd again,

Brings every Grace triumphant in her Train: The wondering Nereids, though they rais'd no Storm,

Foreslow'd her Passage to behold her Form;

PROLOGUE TO THE DUCHESS, 1682. Text from the Miscellanies of 1693.

PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE LOYAL BROTHER, OR THE PERSIAN PRINCE.