Prologue to the Impertinents acted at the Middle TEMPLE.

THe Author of this Play comes to receive,
His final doom which only you can give:
Th' ill-judging Town has favour'd what he writ
Yet what so er'e they do it is not fit,
'T should pass for current 'till you licence it.
Though they their favour to him did allow,
He may be found a Malefactor now;
But to your Judgment he must humbly bow.
He by your common law condemn'd must be,
But for releif flies to your Chauncerie.
He fears your Justice when you know that he,
A Member of this learn'd Society▪
Lest fruitfull Law for barren Poetry,
Yet (Fathers of the Law) if ye will please,
T' unbend your cars, & give your minds some ease
From all the weights which they have born ere while,
He hopes the mirth in's Play may gain your smile.
And he's not so far gone but that he may,
Plead once before you in a nobler way.