EPILOGUE

TO THE

INDIAN EMPEROUR.

BY A MERCURY.

TO all and fingular in this full meeting, Ladies and gallants, Phœbus 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 fenfe, 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 fphere 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

bufinefs 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 fave, 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 higheft, which coft them fo dear:
Fops in the town more eafily will pafs;
One ftory makes a statutable ass:

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 feveral 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 best.
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.

The storm, which vanish'd on the neighbouring fhore,

15

Was taught by Shakspeare's Tempest first to

roar.

That innocence and beauty, which did smile
In Fletcher, grew on this enchanted ifle.
But Shakspeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durft walk but he.
I must confefs 'twas bold, nor would you now
That liberty to vulgar wits allow,

20

26

Which works by magic fupernatural things:
But Shakspeare's power is facred as a king's.
Those legends from old priesthood were received,
And he then writ, as people then believed.
But if for Shakspeare we your grace implore,
We for our theatre fhall want it more:
Who, by our dearth of youths, are forc'd to
employ

One of our women to prefent a boy;

And that's a transformation,

you

30

will fay,

Exceeding all the magic in the play.

Let none expect, in the laft act, to find

Her fex transform'd from man to womankind.

Whate'er she was before the play began,

All

you fhall fee of her is perfect man.

Or, if your fancy will be farther led

To find her woman—it must be a-bed.

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