THE PROLOGUE AT BLACKFRIARS.
Were it his trade, the Author bid me say,
Perchance he'd beg you would be good to th' play;
And I, to set him up in reputation,
Should hold a basin forth for approbation.
But praise so gain'd, he thinks, were a relief
Able to make his comedy a brief;
For where your pity, must your judgment be,
'Tis not a play, but you fir'd houses see.
Look not his quill, then, should petitions run;
No gatherings here into a Prologue spun.
Whether their sold scenes be dislik'd, or hit,
Are cares for them who eat by th' stage and wit.
He's one whose unbought Muse did never fear
An empty second day or a thin share;
But can make th' actors, though you come not twice,
No losers, since we act now at the king's price,
Who hath made this play public; and the same
Power that makes laws redeem'd this from the flame:
For th' Author builds no fame, nor doth aspire
To praise from that which he condemn'd to th' fire.
He's thus secure then, that he cannot win
A censure sharper than his own hath been.
Perchance he'd beg you would be good to th' play;
And I, to set him up in reputation,
Should hold a basin forth for approbation.
But praise so gain'd, he thinks, were a relief
Able to make his comedy a brief;
For where your pity, must your judgment be,
'Tis not a play, but you fir'd houses see.
Look not his quill, then, should petitions run;
No gatherings here into a Prologue spun.
Whether their sold scenes be dislik'd, or hit,
Are cares for them who eat by th' stage and wit.
He's one whose unbought Muse did never fear
An empty second day or a thin share;
But can make th' actors, though you come not twice,
No losers, since we act now at the king's price,
Who hath made this play public; and the same
Power that makes laws redeem'd this from the flame:
For th' Author builds no fame, nor doth aspire
To praise from that which he condemn'd to th' fire.
He's thus secure then, that he cannot win
A censure sharper than his own hath been.