Prologue to the Orphan

WHAT wou'd my humble Comrades have Me say ?
Gentle Spectators, pray excuse the Play ?
Such Work by hireling Actors shou'd be done,
Whom You may Clap or Hiss, for half a Crown :
Our generous Scenes for Friendship We repeat;
And if We don't delight, at least We treat.
Ours is the Damage, if We chance to blunder;
We may be ask'd whose Patent We act under.

How shall We gain you ? A-la-mode de France ?
We hir'd this Room ; but none of Us can dance :
In cutting Capers We shall never please :
Our Learning does not lye below our Knees.
Shall We procure You Symphony and Sound ?
Then You must Each subscribe Two hundred Pound.
There We shou'd fail too, as to Point of Voice :
Mistake Us not ; We're no Italian Boys :
True Britons born, from Westminster We come ;
And only speak the Style of ancient Rome.
We wou'd deserve, not poorly beg Applause ;
And stand or fall by Freind's or Busby's Laws.

For the Distress'd Your Pity We implore :
If once refus'd. We trouble You no more,
But leave Our Orphan squawling at your Door.