Prologue

Wit in a prologue poets justly may
Style a new imposition on a play.
When Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, rul'd the stage,
There scarce were ten good palates in the age ;
More curious cooks than guests ; for men would eat
Most heartily of any kind of meat.
And then what strange variety ! each play
A feast for epicures, and that each day !
But mark how oddly it is come about,
And how unluckily it now falls out :
The palates are grown higher, number increas'd,
And there wants that which should make up the feast ;
And yet y'are so unconscionable, you'd have
Forsooth of late, that which they never gave ;
Banquets before, and after——
Now pox on him that first good prologue writ !
He left a kind of rent-charge upon wit ;
Which if succeeding poets fail to pay,
They forfeit all their worth ; and that's their play :
Y'have ladies' humours, and y'are grown to that,
You will not like the man, 'less that his boots and hat
Be right ; no play, unless the prologue be
And ep'logue writ to curiosity.
Well, gentles, 'tis the grievance of the place,
And pray consider't, for here's just the case ;
The richness of the ground is gone and spent,
Men's brains grow barren, and you raise the rent.