Tragedies of the
last Age considered,_ p. 61. Dryden has elsewhere given his assent
to this maxim, that a king, in poetry, as in our constitution, can
do no wrong. The only apology for introducing a tyrant upon the
stage, was to make him at the same time an usurper.

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON,
REPRESENTING THE GHOST OF SHAKESPEARE.

See, my loved Britons, see your Shakespeare rise,
An awful ghost confessed to human eyes!
Unnamed, methinks, distinguished I had been
From other shades, by this eternal green,
About whose wreaths the vulgar poets strive,
And with a touch, their withered bays revive.
Untaught, unpractised, in a barbarous age,
I found not, but created first the stage.
And, if I drained no Greek or Latin store,
'Twas, that my own abundance gave me more.
On foreign trade I needed not rely,
Like fruitful Britain, rich without supply.
In this my rough-drawn play, you shall behold
Some master-strokes, so manly and so bold,
That he who meant to alter, found 'em such,
He shook, and thought it sacrilege to touch.
Now, where are the successors to my name?
What bring they to fill out a poet's fame?
Weak, short-lived issues of a feeble age;
Scarce living to be christened on the stage!
For humour farce, for love they rhyme dispense,
That tolls the knell for their departed sense.
Dulness might thrive in any trade but this:
'Twould recommend to some fat benefice.
Dulness, that in a playhouse meets disgrace,
Might meet with reverence, in its proper place.
The fulsome clench, that nauseates the town,
Would from a judge or alderman go down,
Such virtue is there in a robe and gown!
And that insipid stuff which here you hate,
Might somewhere else be called a grave debate;
Dulness is decent in the church and state.
But I forget that still 'tis understood,
Bad plays are best decried by showing good.
Sit silent then, that my pleased soul may see
A judging audience once, and worthy me;
My faithful scene from true records shall tell,
How Trojan valour did the Greek excell;
Your great forefathers shall their fame regain,
And Homer's angry ghost repine in vain[1].

Footnote:
1. The conceit, which our ancestors had adopted, of their descent from
Brutus, a fugitive Trojan, induced their poets to load the Grecian
chiefs with every accusat