were not strong enough to appear at a distance. As it is not in the common way of writing, the approbation was at first doubtful, but has risen every time it has been acted, and has given an opportunity in several of its parts for as just and good action as ever I saw on the stage.

The reader will consider that I speak here, not as the author, but as the patentee: which is, perhaps, the reason why I am not diffuse in the praise of the play, lest I should seem like a man who cries up his own wares only to draw in

customers.

RICHARD STEELE.

PROLOGUE.

In this grave age, when Comedies are few,

We crave your patronage for one that's new;
Though 'twere poor stuff, yet bid the author fair,
And let the scarceness recommend the ware.

Long have your ears been fill'd with tragic parts,
Blood and blank verse have harden'd all your hearts;
If e'er you smile, 'tis at some party strokes,
Round-heads and wooden-shoes are standing jokes;
The same conceit gives claps and hisses birth,
You're grown such politicians in your mirth!
For once we try (though 'tis I own unsafe),
To please you all, and make both parties laugh.
Our author, anxious for his fame to-night,
And bashful in his first attempt to write,
Lies cautiously obscure and unreveal'd,
Like ancient actors in a mask conceal'd.
Censure, when no man knows who writes the play,
Were much good malice merely thrown away.
The mighty critics will not blast, for shame,
A raw young thing, who dares not tell his name:
Good natur'd judges will th' unknown defend,
And fear to blame, lest they should hurt a friend:
Each wit may praise it for his own dear sake,
And hint he writ it, if the thing should take.
But, if you're rough, and use him like a dog,
Depend upon it--he'll remain incog.

If you should hiss, he swears he'll hiss as high,
And, like a culprit, join the hue-and-cry.
If cruel men are still averse to spare
These scenes, they fly for refuge to the fair.

Though with a ghost our comedy be heighten'd,
Ladies, upon my word, you shan't be frighten'd:
O, 'tis a ghost that scorns to be uncivil,

A well-spread, lusty, jointure-hunting devil;
An am'rous ghost, that's faithful, fond, and true,
Made up of flesh and blood-as much as you.
Then ev'ry evening come in flocks, undaunted;
We never think this house is too much haunted.

THE DRUMMER.