Prologue, Spoken by Lord Buckhurst at Westminster School at a Representation of Dryden's Cleomenes, Christmas 1695

PISH, lord, I wish this Prologue was but Greek,
Then young Cleonidas would boldly speak :
But can Lord Buckhurst in poor English say,
Gentle spectators pray excuse the play?
No, witness all ye Gods of ancient Greece,
Rather than condescend to terms like these,
I'd go to school six hours on Christmas-day,
Or construe Persius while my comrades play.
Such work by hireling actors should be done,
Who tremble when they see a critic frown.
Poor rogues that smart like fencers for their bread.
And if they are not wounded are not fed.
But, Sirs, our labour has more noble ends,
We ad: our Tragedy to see our Friends :
Our gen'rous scenes are for pure love repeated.
And if you are not pleas'd, at least your treated.
The candles and the cloaths our selves we bought.
Our Tops neglected, and our Balls forgot.
To learn our parts we left our midnight bed,
Most of you snored whilst Cleomenes read;
Not that from this confession we would sue
Praise undeserv'd ; we know our selves and you :
Resolv'd to stand or perish by our cause.
We neither censure fear, or beg applause.
For those are Westminster and Sparta's laws.
Yet if we see some judgment well inclin'd,
To young desert, and growing virtue kind,
That critic by ten thousand marks should know,
That greatest souls to goodness only bow ;
And that, your little Hero does inherit
Not Cleomenes more than Dorset's spirit.