You, who each day can theatres behold,
Like Nero's palace, shining all with gold,
Our mean ungilded stage will scorn, we fear,
And, for the homely room, disdain the chear.
Yet now cheap druggets to a mode are grown,
And a plain suit, since we can make but one,
Is better than to be by tarnish'd gawdry known.
They, who are by your favors wealthy made,
With mighty sums may carry on the trade :
We, broken bankers, half destroy'd by fire,
With our small stock to humble roofs retire;
Pity our loss, while you their pomp admire.
For fame and honor we no longer strive,
We yield in both, and only beg to live:
Unable to support their vast expence,
Who build and treat with such magnificence;
That, like th'ambitious monarchs of the age,
They give the law to our provincial stage.
Great neighbors enviously promote excess,
While they impose their splendor on the less.
But only fools, and they of vast estate,
Th'extremity of modes will imitate,
The dangling knee-fringe, and the bib-cravat.
Yet if some pride with want may be allow'd,
We in our plainness may be justly proud:
Our royal master will'd it should be fo;
Whate'er he's pleas'd to own, can need no show :
That facred name gives ornament and grace,
And, like his stamp, makes basest metals pass.
Twere folly now a stately pile to raise,
To build a playhouse while you throw down plays,
While scenes, machines, and empty operas reign.
And for the pencil you the pen difdain:
While troops of famish'd Frenchmen hither drive,
And laugh at those upon whose alms they live:
Old English authors vanish, and give place
To these new conqu'rors of the Norman race.
More tamely than your fathers you submit,
You're now grown vassals to them in your wit.
Mark, when they play, how our fine fops advance,
The mighty merits of their men of France,
Keep time, cry Bon, and humor the cadence.)
Well, please yourselves; but sure 'tis understood,
That French machines have ne'er done England
I would not prophesy our house's fate : But while vain shows and scenes you over-rate, 'Tis to be fear'd
That as a fire the former house o'erthrew,
Machines and tempests will destroy the new.
HO what our Prologue said was sadly true,
Yet, gentlemen, our homely house is
A charm that feldom fails with, wicked, you.
A country lip may have the velvet touch;
Tho she's no lady, you may think her fuch :
A ftrong imagination may do much.
But you, loud firs, who thro your curls look big,
Critics in plume and white vallancy wig,
Who lolling on our foremost benches fit,
And still charge first, the true forlorn of wit;
Whose favors, like the fun, warm where you roll,
Yet you, like him, have neither heat nor foul;
So may your hats your foretops never press,
Untouch'd your ribbons, sacred be your dress;
So may you flowly to old age advance,
And have th'excuse of youth for ignorance :
So may fop-corner full of noise remain,
And drive far off the dull attentive train,
VOL. II.
So may your midnight scowrings happy prove,
And morning batt'ries force your way to love;
So may not France your warlike hands recal,
But leave you by each other's swords to fall :
As you come here to ruffle vizard punk,
When sober, rail, and roar when you are drunk.
But to the wits we can some merit plead,
And urge what by themselves has oft been faid :
Our house relieves the ladies from the frights
Of ill-pav'd streets, and long dark winter nights;
The Flanders horses from a cold bleak road,
Where bears in furs dare scarcely look abroad;
The audience from worn plays and fustian stuff,
Of rhime, more nauseous than three boys in buff.
Tho in their house the poets heads appear,
We hope we may prefume their wits are here.
The best which they referv'd they now will play,
For, like kind cuckolds, tho w'have not the way
To please, we'll find you abler men who may.
If they should fail, for last recruits we breed
A troop of frifking Monfieurs to fucceed :
You know the French fure cards at time of need.
UNIVERSITY of OXFORD, 1674.
OETS, your fubjects, have their parts afsign'd
T'unbend, and to divert their sov'reign's mind:
When tir'd with following nature, you think fit
To feek repose in the cool shades of wit,
And, from the sweet retreat, with joy furvey
What refts, and what is conquer'd, of the way.
Here, free yourselves from envy, care, and strife,
You view the various turns of human life:
Safe in our scene, thro dangerous courts you go,
And, undebauch'd, the vice of cities know.
Your theories are here to practice brought,
As in mechanic operations wrought;
And man, the little world, before you set,
As once the sphere of chrystal shew'd the great.
Blest sure are you above all mortal kind,
If to your fortunes you can fuit your mind:
Content to fee, and shun, those ills we show,
And crimes on theatres alone to know.
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