own son is now, by the fortune of war, a prisoner in Elis. The father is sparing no cost in purchasing such captives of rank and birth as are brought to Ætolia and sold as slaves, in the hope of being able thus to effect an exchange for his son. He feels the loss of this son all the more, because his younger brother was carried off in his infancy by a revengeful slave, and he has never seen him since. "Do you understand, now?" says the speaker to the audience—"I hear a gentleman standing up at the back of the gallery say 'no.' Then come a little nearer, sir, if you please; I'm not going to crack my voice in bawling to you at that distance. And if you've not money enough to pay for a seat, you've money enough to walk out, which I recommend you to do. And now—you gentlemen that can afford to pay for your seats,—have the goodness to listen, while I continue my story." He goes on, after the fashion which has been noticed as common in such prologues, to sketch in brief the whole plot. He begs, however, to assure the audience, confidentially, that they need not be alarmed because there is a war going on in this play between Elis and Ætolia. He promises them—quite in the spirit of Bottom and his company of players—that they "will leave the killing out;" all the battles shall be fought behind the scenes. It would never do for them, he says, a company of poor comedians, to encroach upon the domain of tragedy. If any gentleman present wants a fight, he must get one up on his own account—and it shall go hard but that the present speaker will find a match for him, if he be so inclined. He concludes by asking their favourable verdict in the dramatic contest:—
