Footnotes: 
1.  Heliodorus, bishop of Trica, wrote a romance in Greek, called the
   “Ethiopiques,” containing the amours of Theagenes and Chariclea.  He
   was so fond of this production, that, the option being proposed to
   him by a synod, he rather chose to resign his bishopric than
   destroy his work.  There occurs a scene of incantation in this
   romance.  The story of Lucan’s witch occurs in the sixth book of the
   Pharsalia.

   Dryden has judiciously imitated Seneca, in representing necromancy
   as the last resort of Tiresias, after all milder modes of augury
   had failed.

2.  It had been much to be wished, that our author had preferred his
   own better judgment, and the simplicity of the Greek plot, to
   compliance with this foolish custom.

3.  This seems to allude to the French, who, after having repeatedly
   reduced the Dutch to extremity, were about this period defeated by
   the Prince of Orange, in the battle of Mons. See the next note.

PROLOGUE.

  When Athens all the Grecian slate did guide,
  And Greece gave laws to all the world beside;
  Then Sophocles with Socrates did sit,
  Supreme in wisdom one, and one in wit: 
  And wit from wisdom differed not in those,
  But as ’twas sung in verse, or said in prose. 
  Then, OEdipus, on crowded theatres,
  Drew all admiring eyes and list’ning ears: 
  The pleased spectator shouted every line,
  The noblest, manliest, and the best design! 
  And every critic of each learned age,
  By this just model has reformed the stage. 
  Now, should it fail, (as heaven avert our fear!)
  Damn it in silence, lest the world should hear. 
  For were it known this poem did not please,
  You might set up for perfect savages: 
  Your neighbours would not look on you as men,
  But think the nation all turned Picts again. 
  Faith, as you manage matters, ’tis not fit
  You should suspect yourselves of too much wit: 
  Drive not the jest too far, but spare this piece;
  And, for this once, be not more wise than Greece. 
  See twice! do not pell-mell to damning fall,
  Like true-born Britons, who ne’er think at all: 
  Pray be advised; and though at Mons[1] you won,
  On pointed cannon do not always run. 
  With some respect to ancient wit proceed;
  You take the four first councils for your creed. 
  But, when you lay tradition wholly by,
  And on the private spirit alone rely,
  You turn fanatics in your poetry. 
  If, notwithstanding all that we can say,
  You needs will have your penn’orths of the play,
  And come resolved to damn, because you pay,
  Record it, in memorial of the fact,
  The first play buried since the woollen act.