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Smi. I find the Author will be very much oblig'd to the Players, if they can make any sence of this.
Enter Bayes.
Bayes. Now, Gentlemen, I would fain ask your opinion of one thing. I have made a Prologue and an Epilogue, which may both serve for either: (do you mark?) nay, they may both serve too, I gad, for any other Play as well as this.
Smi. Very well. That's, indeed, Artificial.
Bayes. And I would fain ask your judgements, now, which of them would do best for the Prologue? For, you must know, there is, in nature, but two ways of making very good Prologues. The one is by civility, by insinuation, good language, and all that, to——— a ——— in a manner, steal your plaudit from the courtesie of the Auditors: the other, by making use of some certain personal things, which may keep a hank upon such censuring persons, as cannot otherways, A gad, in nature, be hindred from being too free with their tongues. To which end, my first Prologue is, that I come out in a long black Veil, and a great huge Hang-man behind me, with a Furr'd-cap, and his Sword drawn; and there tell 'em plainly, That if, out of good nature, they will not like my Play, why I gad, I'l e'en kneel down, and he shall cut my head off. Whereupon they all clapping ——— a ———
Smi. But, suppose they do not.
Bayes. Suppose! Sir, you may suppose what you please, I have nothing to do with your suppose, Sir, nor am not at all mortifi'd at it; not at all, Sir; I gad, not one jot. Suppose quoth a!——— [Walks away.
Johns. Phoo! pr'ythee, Bayes, don't mind what he says: he's a fellow newly come out of the Country, he knows nothing of what's the relish, here, of the Town.
Bayes. If I writ, Sir, to please the Country, I should have follow'd the old plain way; but I write for some persons of Quality, and peculiar friends of mine, that understand what Flame and Power in writing is: and they do me the right, Sir, to approve of what I do.
Johns. I, I, they will clap, I warrant you; never fear it.
Bayes.
