out candles to give light to the plot.
And for surprise, two bloody-minded men
Fight till they die, then rise and dance again,
Such deep intrigues you're welcome to this day:
But blame yourselves, not him who writ the play;
Though his plot's dull, as can be well desired,
Wit stiff as any you have e'er admired: 20
He's bound to please, not to write well; and knows
There is a mode in plays as well as clothes;
Therefore, kind judges....

A SECOND PROLOGUE ENTERS.

2. Hold; would you admit
For judges all you see within the pit?

1. Whom would he then except, or on what score?

2. All who (like him) have writ ill plays before;
For they, like thieves condemn'd, are hangmen made,
To execute the members of their trade.
All that are writing now he would disown,
But then he must except--even all the town;
All choleric, losing gamesters, who, in spite,
Will damn to-day, because they lost last night;
All servants, whom their mistress' scorn upbraids;
All maudlin lovers, and all slighted maids;
All who are out of humour, all severe;
All that want wit, or hope to find it here.

* * * * *

II.

PROLOGUE TO THE INDIAN QUEEN.

As the music plays a soft air, the curtain rises slowly and discovers an
Indian boy and girl sleeping under two plantain-trees; and, when the
curtain is almost up, the music turns into a tune expressing an alarm,
at which the boy awakes, and speaks:

BOY. Wake, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease,
And fly together with our country's peace!
No more must we sleep under plantain shade,
Which neither heat could pierce, nor cold invade;
Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
And opening buds drive falling fruits away.

QUE. Why should men quarrel here, where all possess
As much as they can hope for by success?--
None can have most, where nature is so kind,
As to exceed man's use, though not his mind. 10

BOY. By ancient prophecies we have been told,
Our world shall be subdued by one more old;--
And, see, that world already's hither come.

QUE. If these be they, we welcome then our doom!
Their loots are such, that mercy flows from thence,
More gentle than our native innocence.

BOY. Why should we then fear these, our enemies,
That rather seem to us like deities?

QUE. By their protection, let us beg to live;