After the second Sounding.

INDUCTION.

By three of the Children.

Child. PRAY you away; why, fellows?

Gods so? what do you mean? 9. Marry, that you shall not speak the prologue, sir.

3. Why? do you hope to speak it?

2. I, and I think I have most right to it : I am sure I studied it first.

3. That's all one, if the author think I can speak it better.

1. I plead possession of the cloke': gentles, your suffrages I pray you.

Why children, are you not asham'd? come in there. [Within. 3. Slid, I'll play nothing i' the play, unless I speak it.

1. Why, will you stand to most voices of the gentlemen? let that decide it.

3. O, no, sir gallant; you presume to have the start of us there, aud that makes you offer so prodigally.

1. No, would I were whip'd, if I had any such thought; try it by lots either.

2. Faith, I dare tempt my fortune in a greater venture than this.

3. Well said, resolute Jack, I am content too; so we draw first. Make the cuts. 1. But will you not snatch my cloke, while I am stooping?

3. No, we scorn treachery.
2. Which cut shall speak it?

3. The shortest.

1. Agreed: draw. The shortest is come to the shortest. Fortune was not altogether

blind in this. Now, sir, I hope I shall go forward without your envy.

2. A spite of all mischievous luck! I was once plucking at the other.

3. Stay, Jack: 'slid, I'll do somewhat now afore I go in, though it be nothing but to revenge myself on the author: since I speak not his prologue. I'll go tell all the argument of his play afore-hand, and so stale his invention to the auditory before it come forth.

1. O, do not so. 2. By no means.

[At the breaches in this speech following, the other two interrupt him still.

3. First, the title of his play is Cynthia's Revels, as any man (that hath hope to be saved by his book) can witness; the scene Gargaphie, which I do vehemently suspect for some fustian country; but let that vanish. Here is the court of Cynthia, whither he brings Cupid (travelling on foot) resolv'd to turn page. By the way Cupid meets with Mercury, (as that's a thing to be noted, take any of our play-books without a Cupid, or a Mercury in it, and burn it for an heretick in poetry)-Pray thee let me alone. Mercury, he (in the nature of a conjurer) raises up Eccho, who weeps over her love, or daffodil, Narcissus, a little; sings; curses the spring wherein the pretty foolish gentleman melted himself away: and there's an end of her.- -Now

I am to inform you, that Cupid and Mercury do both become pages. Cupid attends on Philautia or Self-love, a court-lady: Mercury follows Hedon, the Voluptuous, and a

Q

courtier; one that ranks himself even with Anaides, or the Impudent, a gallant, and that's my part; one that keeps Laughter, Gelaia the daughter of Folly, (a wench in boy's attire) to wait on him. -These

in the court meet with Amorphus, or the Deformed, a traveller that hath drunk of the fountain, and there tells the wonders of the water. They presently dispatch away their pages with bottles to fetch of it, and themselves go to visit the ladies. But I should have told you (Look, these emmets put me out here) that with this Amorphus, there comes along a citizen's heir, Asotus, or the Prodigal, who (in imitation of the traveller, who hath the whetstone following him) entertains the beggar, to be his attendant--Now, the nymphs who are mistresses to these gallants, are Philautia, Self-love; Phantaste, a light Wittiness; Argurion, Money; and their guardian, mother Moria or mistress Folly.

1. Pray thee no more.

3. There Cupid strikes Money in love with the Prodigal, makes her dote upon him, give him jewels, bracelets, carkenets, &c. All which he most ingeniously departs withal to be made known to the other ladies and gallants; and in the heat of this, increases his train with the fool to follow him, as well as the beggar- -By this time, your beggar begins to wait close, who is return'd with the rest of his fellow bottle-men.----There they all drink, save Argurion, who is fal'n into a sudden apoplexy.

1. Stop his mouth.

3. And then, there's a retired scholar there, you would not wish a thing to be better contemn'd of a society of gallants, than it is; and he applies his service (good gentleman) to the lady Arete or Virtue, a poor nymph of Cynthia's train, that's scarce able to buy herself a gown, you shall see her play in a black robe anon: a creature that (I assure you) is no less scorn'd than himself. Where am I now? at a stand?

2. Come, leave at last, yet.

3. O, the night is come, ('twas somewhat dark, methought) and Cynthia intends to come forth: (that helps it a little yet.) All the courtiers must provide for revels; they conclude upon a masque, the device of which, is(what, will you ravish me?) that each of these vices, being to appear before Cynthia, would seem other than indeed they are; and therefore assume the most neighbouring virtues as their masking habit. (I'd cry a rape, but that you are children.)

2. Come, we'll have no more of this anticipation; to give them the inventory of their cates aforehand, were the discipline of a tavern, and not fitting this presence.

1. Tut, this was but to shew us the happiness of his memory. I thought at first he would have play'd the ignorant critick with

every thing, along as he had gone; I cxpected some such device.

3. O, you shall see me do that, rarely; lend me thy cloke.

it.

1. Soft, sir, you'll speak my prologue in

3. No, would I might never stir then. 2. Lend it him, lend it him.

1. Well, you have sworn.

3. I have. Now, sir, suppose I am one of your gentile auditors, that am come in (having paid my money at the door, with much ado), and here I take my place and sit down: I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin. [At the breaches he takes his tobacco.] By this light, I wonder that any man is so mad, to come to see these rascally tits play here They do act like so many wrens or pismires- -not the fifth part of a good face amongst them all.--And then their musick is abominable-able to stretch a man's cars worse than ten-pillories, and their ditties most lamentable things, like the pitiful fellows that make them—poets. By this vapour, an' 'twere not for tobacco

-I think- -the very stench of'em would poison me, I should not dare to come in at their gates-A man were better visit fifteen jails,- -or a dozen or two of hospitalsthan once adventure to come near them, How is't? well?

1. Excellent; give me my cloke.

3. Stay; you shall see me do another now; but a more sober, or better-gather'd gallant; that is (as it may be thought) some friend, or well-wisher to the house: and here I enter.

1. What? upon the stage too?

2. Yes; and I step forth like one of the children, and ask you, would you have a stool, sir?

3. A stool, boy?

2. I, sir, if you'll give me six-pence I'll fetch you one.

3. For what, I pray thee? what shall I

do with it?

2. O lord, sir! will you betray your ignorance so much? why throne yourself in state on the stage, as other gentlemen use, sir.

3. Away, wag; what, would'st thou make an implement of me? 'Slid, the boy takes me for a piece of perspective (I hold my life) or some silk curtain, come to hang the stage here! Sir Crack, I am none of your fresh pictures, that use to beautify the decayed dead arras in a public theatre.

2. Tis a sign, sir, you put not that confidence in your good cloaths, and your better face, that a gentleman should do, sir. But I pray you, sir, let me be a suiter to you, that you will quit our stage then, and take a place, the play is instantly to begin.

3. Most willingly, my good wag; but I would speak with your author, where's

he?

. Not this way, I assure you, sir; we are not so officiously befriended by him, as to have his presence in the tiring-house, to prompt us aloud, stamp at the book-holder, swear for our properties, curse the poor tireman, rail the musick out of tune, and sweat for every venial trespass we commit, as some author would, if he had such fine enghles as we. Well, 'tis but our hard fortune.

3. Nay, crack, be not dishearten'd.

2. Not I, sir; but if you please to confer with our author, by attorney, you may, sir; our proper self here, stands for him.

3. Troth, I have no such serious affair to negotiate with him, but what may very safely be turn'd upon thy trust. It is in the general behalf of this fair society here that I am to speak, at least the more judicious part of it, which seems much distasted with the immodest and obscene writing of many in their plays. Besides, they could wish, your poets would leave to be promoters of other men's jests, and to way-lay all the stale apophthegins, or old books, they can hear of (in print, or otherwise) to farce their scenes withal. That they would not so penuriously glean wit from every laundress or hackney-man, or derive their best grace (with servile imitation) from common stages, or observation of the company they converse with; as if their invention liv'd wholly upon another man's trencher. Again, that feeding their friends with nothing of their own, but what they have twice or thrice cook'd, they should not wantonly give out, how soon they had drest it2; nor how many coaches came to carry away the broken meat, besides hobby-horses, and foot-cloth nags.

2. So, sir, this is all the reformation you Seek?

3. It is; do not you think it necessary to be practised, my little wag?

2. Yes, where any such ill-habited cus

tom is receiv'd.

3. O (I had almost forgot it too) they say, the umbra, or ghosts of some three or four plays, departed a dozen years since, have been seen walking on your stage here; take heed, boy, if your house be haunted with such hobgoblins, 'twill fright away all your spectators quickly.

2. Good, sir; but what will you say now, if a poet (untouch'd with any breath of this disease) find the tokens upon you, that are of the auditory? As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other learning,

than the price of sattin and velvets; nor other perfection, than the wearing of a neat suit; and yet will censure as desperately as the most profess'd critick in the house: presuming his cloths should bear him out in't. Another (whom it hath pleas'd nature to furnish with more beard, than brain) prunes his mustaccio, lisps, (and with some score of affected oaths) swears down all that sit about him; "That the old Hieronimo (as "it was first acted) was the only best, and "judiciously penn'd play of Europe." A third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty years since, and when Monsieur was here, and would enforce all wits to be of that fashion, because his doublet is still so. A fourth miscalls all by the name of fustian, that his grounded capacity cannot aspire to. A fifth only shakes his bottle-head, and out of his corky brain squeezeth out a pitifullearned face, and is silent.

3. By my faith, Jack, you have put me down: I would I knew how to get off with any indifferent grace. Here, take your cloke, and promise some satisfaction in your prologue, or (I'll be sworn) we have marr'd all.

2. Tut, fear not, child, this will never distaste a true sense: be not out, and good enough. I would thou hadst some sugarcandied to sweeten thy mouth.

The Third Sounding.

PROLOGUE.

IF gracious silence, sweet attention, Quick sight, and quicker apprehension, (The lights of judgment's throne) shine any

where;

Our doubtful author hopes this is their sphere.
And therefore opens he himself to those;
To other weaker beams his labours close:
As loth to prostitute their virgin-strain,
To ev'ry vulgar and adul'trate brain.
In this alone, his muse her sweetness hath,
She shuns the print of any beaten path;
And
proves new ways to come to learned ears:
Pied ignorance she neither loves nor fears.
Nor hunts she after popular applause, [jaws:
Or foamy praise, that drops from common
The garland that she wears, their hands
must twine,

Who can both censure, understand, define
What merit is: then cast those piercing rays,
Round as a crown, instead of honour'd bays,
About his poesie; which (he knows) affords
Words, above action; matter, above words.

Mr. THEOBALD.