What is a Prologue?  Let our Tutor teach:  Pro means beforehand; logos stands for speech.  ’Tis like the harper’s prelude on the strings, The prima donna’s courtesy ere she sings;—­ Prologues in metre are to other pros As worsted stockings are to engine-hose.

    “The world’s a stage,”—­as Shakspeare said, one day;
    The stage a world—­was what he meant to say. 
    The outside world’s a blunder, that is clear;
    The real world that Nature meant is here. 
    Here every foundling finds its lost mamma;
    Each rogue, repentant, melts his stern papa;
    Misers relent, the spendthrift’s debts are paid,
    The cheats are taken in the traps they laid;
    One after one the troubles all are past
    Till the fifth act comes right side up at last,
    When the young couple, old folks, rogues, and all,
    Join hands, so happy at the curtain’s fall. 
    —­Here suffering virtue ever finds relief,
    And black-browed ruffians always come to grief. 
    —­When the lorn damsel, with a frantic screech,
    And cheeks as hueless as a brandy-peach,
    Cries, “Help, kyind Heaven!” and drops upon her knees
    On the green—­baize,—­beneath the (canvas) trees,—­
    See to her side avenging Valor fly:—­
    “Ha!  Villain!  Draw!  Now, Terraitorr, yield or die!”
    —­When the poor hero flounders in despair,
    Some dear lost uncle turns up millionnaire,—­
    Clasps the young scapegrace with paternal joy,
    Sobs on his neck, “My boy!  My Boy!!  MY BOY!!!”

    Ours, then, sweet friends, the real world to-night
    Of love that conquers in disaster’s spite. 
    Ladies, attend!  While woful cares and doubt
    Wrong the soft passion in the world without,
    Though fortune scowl, though prudence interfere,
    One thing is certain:  Love will triumph here!

    Lords of creation, whom your ladies rule,—­
    The world’s great masters, when you’re out of school,—­
    Learn the brief moral of our evening’s play: 
    Man has his will,—­but woman has her way! 
    While man’s dull spirit toils in smoke and fire,
    Woman’s swift instinct threads the electric wire,—­
    The magic bracelet stretched beneath the waves
    Beats the black giant with his score of slaves. 
    All earthly powers confess your sovereign art
    But that one rebel,—­woman’s wilful heart. 
    All foes you master; but a woman’s wit
    Lets daylight through you ere you know you’re hit. 
    So, just to picture what her art can do,
    Hear an old story made as good as new.

    Rudolph, professor of the headsman’s trade,
    Alike was famous for his arm and blade. 
    One day a prisoner Justice had to kill
    Knelt at the block to test the artist’s skill. 
    Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy-browed,
    Rudolph the headsman rose