EPILOGUE

TO THE

INDIAN QUEEN.

SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA.

YOU fee what fhifts we are enforc'd to try,
To help out wit with fome variety;

Shows may be found that never yet were seen,
"Tis hard to find fuch wit as ne'er has been:
You have feen all that this old world can do, 5
We, therefore, try the fortune of the new,
And hope it is below your aim to hit
At untaught nature with your practis'd wit:
Our naked Indians, then, when wits appear,
Would as foon choose to have the Spaniards here.
'Tis true, you have marks enough, the plot, the

fhow,

11

The poet's fcenes, nay, more, the painter's too;
If all this fail, confidering the cost,
'Tis a true voyage to the Indies loft:

But if you fmile on all, then these designs, 15
Like the imperfect treasure of our minds,
Will pafs for current wherefoe'er they go,
When to your bounteous hands their stamps
they owe.

EPILOGUE

TO THE

INDIAN EMPEROUR.

BY A MERCURY.

TO all and fingular in this full meeting,
Ladies and gallants, Phoebus fends ye greeting.
To all his fons, by whate'er title known,
Whether of court, or coffee-house, or town;
From his moft mighty fons, whofe confidence 5
Is plac'd in lofty found, and humble sense,
Even to his little infants of the time,

Who write new fongs, and truft in tune and

rhime:

Be't known, that Phoebus (being daily grieved
To fee good plays condemn'd, and bad received)
Ordains, your judgement upon every cause, 11
Henceforth, be limited by wholesome laws.
He first thinks fit no fonnetteer advance
His cenfure, farther than the fong or dance.
Your wit burlefque may one ftep higher climb,
And in his sphere may judge all doggrel rhime;

All proves, and moves, and loves, and honours

too;

All that appears high fenfe, and scarce is low.
As for the coffee-wits, he fays not much;
Their
proper business is to damn the Dutch: 20
For the great dons of wit---

Phoebus gives them full privilege alone,
To damn all others, and cry up their own.
Laft, for the ladies, 'tis Apollo's will,

They should have power to save, but not to kill:
For love and he long fince have thought it fit, 26
Wit live by beauty, beauty reign by wit.

PROLOGUE

ΤΟ

SIR MARTIN MARR-ALL.

FOOLS, which each man meets in his dish

each day,

Are yet the great regalios of a play;
In which to poets you but just appear,
To prize that highest, which cost them so dear:
Fops in the town more eafily will pass;
One ftory makes a ftatutable afs:

But fuch in plays must be much thicker fown,
Like yolks of eggs, a dozen beat to one.
Obferving poets all their walks invade,

5

As men watch woodcocks gliding through a glade:

And when they have enough for comedy,
They ftow their several bodies in a pye :
The poet's but the cook to fashion it,

10

For, gallants, you yourselves have found the

PROLOGUE

TO THE

TEMPEST*.

As when a tree's cut down, the fecret root Lives under ground, and thence new branches fhoot;

So from old Shakspeare's honour'd duft, this day Springs up and buds a new-reviving play: Shakspeare, who (taught by none) did first impart

To Fletcher wit, to labouring Jonfon art.

5

He, monarch-like, gave thofe, his fubjects, law; And is that nature which they paint and draw. Fletcher reach'd that which on his heights did

grow,

While Jonfon crept, and gather'd all below. 10 This did his love, and this his mirth, digeft: One imitates him moft, the other beft.

If they have fince outwrit all other men, "Tis with the drops which fell from Shakspeare's

pen.

Bonarelli, in his Filli di Sciro, has introduced a fhepherdess in love with two perfons, like the alterations in the Tempeft.

Dr. J. WARTON.