Our Poet bid us say for his own part,
He cannot lay too much forth of his Art:
But fears our over-acting passions may,
As not adorn, deface his labour'd Play,
Yet still he's resolute, for what is writ
Of Nicer valour, and assumes the wit:
But for the Love-Scænes which he ever meant,
Cupid in's Peticoat should represent,
He'll stand no shock of censure; the Play's good,
He says he knows it, (if well understood.)
But we (blind god) beg, if thou art Divine,
Thou'lt shoot thy Arrows round, this Play was thine.