An excerpt from the Prologue:
PROLOGUE,
Spoken by Harlequin
Long, and at vast Expence, th' industrious Stage
Has strove to please a dull ungrateful Age:
With Heroes and with Gods we first began,
And thunder'd to you in heroick Strain:
Some dying Love-sick Queen each Night you injoy'd,
And with Magnificence at last were cloyd:
Our Drums and Trumpets frighted all the Women;
Our Fighting scar'd the Beaux and Billet-Doux Men.
So Spark in an Intrigue of Quality,
Grows weary of his splendid Drudgery;
Hates the Fatigue, and cries a Pox upon her,
What a damn'd Bustle's here with Love and Honour?
In humbler Comedy we next appear,
No Fop or Cuckold, but flap-dash we had him here;
We show'd you all, but you malicious grown,
Friends Vices to expose, and hide your own;
Cry, damn it— This is such, or such a one.
Yet nettled, Plague what does the Scribler mean?
With his damn'd Characters, and Plot obscene.
No Woman without Vizard in the Nation
Can see it twice, and keep her reputation
That's certain, Forgetting
That he himself, in every gross Lampoon,
Her leuder Secrets spread about the Town;
Whilst their seign'd Niceness is but cautious Fear,
Their own Intrigues should be unravel'd here.
Our next Recourse was dwindling down to Farce,
Then—Zounds, what Stuff's here? 'tis all o'er my
Well, Gentlemen, since none of these has sped,
Gad, we have bought a Share i'th' speaking Head.
So there you'll save a Sice,
You love good Husbandry in all but Vice;
Whoring and drinking only bears a Price.
PROLOGUE,
Spoken by Harlequin
Long, and at vast Expence, th' industrious Stage
Has strove to please a dull ungrateful Age:
With Heroes and with Gods we first began,
And thunder'd to you in heroick Strain:
Some dying Love-sick Queen each Night you injoy'd,
And with Magnificence at last were cloyd:
Our Drums and Trumpets frighted all the Women;
Our Fighting scar'd the Beaux and Billet-Doux Men.
So Spark in an Intrigue of Quality,
Grows weary of his splendid Drudgery;
Hates the Fatigue, and cries a Pox upon her,
What a damn'd Bustle's here with Love and Honour?
In humbler Comedy we next appear,
No Fop or Cuckold, but flap-dash we had him here;
We show'd you all, but you malicious grown,
Friends Vices to expose, and hide your own;
Cry, damn it— This is such, or such a one.
Yet nettled, Plague what does the Scribler mean?
With his damn'd Characters, and Plot obscene.
No Woman without Vizard in the Nation
Can see it twice, and keep her reputation
That's certain, Forgetting
That he himself, in every gross Lampoon,
Her leuder Secrets spread about the Town;
Whilst their seign'd Niceness is but cautious Fear,
Their own Intrigues should be unravel'd here.
Our next Recourse was dwindling down to Farce,
Then—Zounds, what Stuff's here? 'tis all o'er my
Well, Gentlemen, since none of these has sped,
Gad, we have bought a Share i'th' speaking Head.
So there you'll save a Sice,
You love good Husbandry in all but Vice;
Whoring and drinking only bears a Price.
