BY LODOWICK CARLELL, ESQ., 1690.

SPOKEN BY MR HART.

  With sickly actors and an old house too,
  We’re match’d with glorious theatres and new;
  And with our alehouse scenes, and clothes bare worn,
  Can neither raise old plays, nor new adorn. 
  If all these ills could not undo us quite,
  A brisk French troop is grown your dear delight;
  Who with broad bloody bills call you each day
  To laugh and break your buttons at their play;
  Or see some serious piece, which we presume
  Is fallen from some incomparable plume; 10
  And therefore, Messieurs, if you’ll do us grace,
  Send lackeys early to preserve your place. 
  We dare not on your privilege intrench,
  Or ask you why you like them? they are French. 
  Therefore some go, with courtesy exceeding,
  Neither to hear nor see, but show their breeding: 
  Each lady striving to out-laugh the rest;
  To make it seem they understood the jest. 
  Their countrymen come in, and nothing pay,
  To teach us English where to clap the play:  20
  Civil, egad! our hospitable land
  Bears all the charge, for them to understand: 
  Mean time we languish and neglected lie,
  Like wives, while you keep better company;
  And wish for your own sakes, without a satire,
  You’d less good breeding, or had more good nature.

* * * * *

XLII.

PROLOGUE TO “DON SEBASTIAN.”

SPOKEN BY A WOMAN.

  The judge removed, though he’s no more my lord,
  May plead at bar, or at the council board: 
  So may cast poets write; there’s no pretension
  To argue loss of wit from loss of pension. 
  Your looks are cheerful; and in all this place
  I see not one that wears a damning face. 
  The British nation is too brave to show
  Ignoble vengeance on a vanquish’d foe. 
  At last be civil to the wretch imploring;
  And lay your paws upon him without roaring. 10
  Suppose our poet was your foe before,
  Yet now, the business of the field is o’er;
  ’Tis time to let your civil wars alone,
  When troops are into winter quarters gone. 
  Jove was alike to Latian and to Phrygian;
  And you well know, a play’s of no religion. 
  Take good advice, and please yourselves this day;
  No matter from what hands you have the play. 
  Among good fellows every health will pass,
  That serves to carry round another glass:  20
  When with full bowls of Burgundy you dine,
  Though at the mighty monarch you repine,
  You grant him still Most Christian in his wine.