PROLOGUE.
When first the poet thought to write a play,
He only hoped to win a poet's sway
Over your plaudits popular: hut now
A cloud arises, he must make his bow
In prologue to avert a brother's ban,
Not to expound his fable and its plan.
Listen, I pray you, to the critic's spleen
And maledictions on this present scene.
Menander "Andria" and "Perinthia" wrote
In which there is no difference to note;
Who knows the one needs also know its brother,
Though differing in their style from one another.
Our poet introduced, as he thought fit,
Into the Andrian the Perinthian wit;
And hence the cause that they vituperate
That we Greek fable so contaminate.
So they in knowledge ignorance display.
For what would Nævius, Plautus, Ennius say,
Whom they accuse in thus accusing us,
With so much senseless and censorious fuss.
The author better loves their negligence,
Than such obscure and diligent pretence.
I warn them from henceforth to keep the peace,
And let their railings and their murmurs cease.
Hear ye and judge, and with calm spirit sit,
And pass your judgment on the poet's wit;
Whether it may, from critic scorn exempt,
Win from you, admiration or contempt.
