Falfe in thy glass all objects are,
Some fet too near, and fome too far;
Thou art the fire of endless night,

The fire that burns, and gives no light.
All torments of the damn'd we find
In only thee,

O Jealoufy!

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
Thou tyrant of the mind!

PROLOGUES

AND

EPILOGUES.

"TIS much defir'd, you judges of the town Would pass a vote to put all prologues down; For who can show me, fince they first were writ, They e'er converted one hard-hearted wit? Yet the world's mended well; in former days 5 Good prologues were as fcarce as now good plays.

For the reforming poets of our age,

In this first charge, fpend their poetic rage:
Expect no more when once the prologue's done;
The wit is ended ere the play's begun.
You now have habits, dances, fcenes, and

rhimes;

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High language often; ay, and fenfe, fometimes.
As for a clear contrivance, doubt it not;
They blow out candles to give light to th' plot.
And for furprife, two bloody-minded men
Fight till they die, then rife and dance again,

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