Not thine, immortal Neufgermain! 'Coft ftudious cabalifts more time. Unless i' th' name of Tom D'Urfy. WERE you all pleas'd, yet what, I pray, To turn quite backward D'Urfy's name? Would each hope to be O in Thomas; And all th' ambitious vowels vie, To have a place in Tom D'Urfy. THEN, well belov'd and trusty letters! Cons'nants, and vowels much their betters, We, willing to repair this breach, And, all that in us lies, please each, Et cet'ra to our aid must call; Et cat'ra therefore, we decree, 80 * PROLOGUE defigned for Mr. D'URFY's laft play. GROWN ROWN old in rhyme, 'twere barbarous to discard A poet, who used to make verfes ending with the last fyl fables of the names of thofe perfons he praifed; which Voiture turned against him in a poem of the fame kind. PROLOGUE FOR MR D'URFY's PLAY. But But ever writ as none e'er writ before. yore, 991 You modern wits, fhould each man bring his claim, Have defperate debentures on your fame; And little would be left you, I'm afraid, If all your debts to Greece and Rome were paid. Tho' plays for honour in old time he made, Believe him, he has known the world too long, Let eafe, his laft request, be of your giving, Nor force him to be damn'd to get his living." 5 10 15 20 25 *PROLOGUE to The Three Hours after Marriage. UTHORS are judg'd by ftrange capricious rules; AUTHORS The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: Yet fure the best are moft feverely fated; For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated. 5 Blockheads with reafon men of sense abhor; 10 By running goods these graceless owlers gain; How shall our author hope a gentler fate, Who dares moft impudently not tranflate! 35 To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign climes. 20 Spaniards and French abufe to the world's end, But fpare old England, left you hurt a friend. 25 Let him his loud, to fhew you all he's hit. Goodly and smart, with ears of Iffachar. Let no one fool ingrofs it, or confine, * A common bleffing! now 'tis yours, now mine. poets in all ages But had the care To keep this cap, for fuch as will, to wear. 30 Our author has it now (for every wit 35 Of course refign'd it to the next that writ); And thus upon the ftage 'tis fairly thrown † ; Let him that takes it, wear it as his own. Shews a cap with cars. + Flings down the cap, and exit. OR; A proper new BALLAD on the new OVID'S METAMORPHOSES, as it was intended to be tranflated by perfons of quality. E Lords and Commons, men of wit YE And pleasure about town, Read this, ere you tranflate one bit Of books of high renown. Beware of Latin authors all! Nor think your verses Sterling, Tho' with a golden pen you fcrawl, And fcribble in a berlin : For not the desk with filver nails, Nor bureau of expence, Nor ftandish well japan'd, avails To writing of good fenfe. Hear how a ghoft in dead of night, With faucer eyes of fire, In woful wife did fore affright A wit and courtly 'fquire. Rare imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth! Ah! why did he write poetry, 5 35 20 A defk he had of curious work, 25 With glittering ftuds about Within the fame did Sandys lurk, Tho' Ovid lay without. Now, as he fcratch'd to fetch up thought, 30 Forth popp'd the Sprite so thin, And from the key-hole bolted out All upright as a pin. With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, And ruff compos'd moft duely, This 'fquire he dropp'd his pen full foon, 35 Ho! Mafter Sam, quoth Sandys' sprite, Write on, nor let me fcare ye; I hear the beat of Jacob's drums, -See first the merry P - comes In hafte without his garter. Then lords and lordings, 'fquires and knights, 45 If Justice Philips' coftive head Some frigid rhymes difburfes; They fhall like Perfian Tales be read, 55 |