Chapter XXXII: Prologue: I

He who writ this, not without pains and thought, From French and English theatres has brought The exactest rules, by which a play is wrought.

II.

The unities of action, place, and time; The scenes unbroken; and a mingled chime Of Jonson's humour, with Corneille's rhyme.

III.

But while dead colours he with care did lay, He fears his wit, or plot, he did not weigh, Which are the living beauties of a play.

IV.

Plays are like towns, which, howe'er fortified By engineers, have still some weaker side, By the o'er-seen defendant unespied.

V.

And with that art you make approaches now; Such skilful fury in assaults you show, That every poet without shame may bow.

VI.

Ours, therefore, humbly would attend your doom, If, soldier-like, he may have terms to come, With flying colours, and with beat of drum.

_The Prologue goes out, and stays while a tune is played, after which he returns again_.

SECOND PROLOGUE.

I had forgot one half, I do protest, And now am sent again to speak the rest. He bows to every great and noble wit; But to the little Hectors of the pit Our poet's sturdy, and will not submit. He'll be beforehand with 'em, and not stay To see each peevish critic stab his play; Each puny censor, who, his skill to boast, Is cheaply witty on the poet's cost. No critic's verdict should, of right, stand good, They are excepted all, as men of blood; And the same law shall shield him from their fury, Which has excluded butchers from a jury. You'd all be wits-- But writing's tedious, and that way may fail; The most compendious method is to rail: Which you so like, you think yourselves ill used, When in smart prologues you are not abused. A civil prologue is approved by no man; You hate it, as you do a civil woman: Your fancy's palled, and liberally you pay To have it quickened ere you see a play; Just as old sinners, worn from their delight, Give money to be whipped to appetite. But what a pox keep I so much ado To save our poet? He is one of you; A brother judgment, and, as I hear say, A cursed critic as e'er damned a play. Good savage gentlemen, your own kind spare; He is, like you, a very wolf or bear; Yet think not he'll your ancient rights invade, Or stop the course of your free damning trade; For he (he vows) at no friend's play can sit, But he must needs find fault, to shew his wit: Then, for his sake, ne'er stint your own delight; Throw boldly, for he sits to all that write; With such he ventures on an even lay, For they bring ready money into play. Those who write not, and yet all writers nick, Are bankrupt gamesters, for they damn on tick.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

LYSIMANTES, _first Prince of the Blood_. PHILOCLES, _the Queen's favourite_. CELADON, _a courtier_.

_Queen of Sicily_. CANDIOPE, _Princess of the Blood_. ASTERIA, _the Queen's confident_. FLORIMEL, _a maid of honour_. FLAVIA, _another maid of honour_. OLINDA, SABINA, _Sisters_. MELISSA, _mother to_ OLINDA _and_ SABINA.

_Guards, Pages of Honour, Soldiers_.

SCENE--_Sicily_.

SECRET LOVE OR THE MAIDEN QUEEN.