Prologue to the opera spoken by mr. Betterton

Sure there’s a dearth of wit in this dull town,

when silly plays so savourily go down;

as, when clipp’d money passes, ’tis a sign

a nation is not over-stock’d with coin.

Happy is he, who in his own defence,

can write just level to your humble sence;

who higher than your pitch can never go;

and doubtless, he must creep, who writes below.

So have I seen in hall of knight or lord

a weak arm throw on a long shovel-board;

he barely lays his piece, bar rubs and knocks,

secur’d by weakness not to reach the box.

A feeble poet will his bus’ness do,

who, straining all he can, comes up to you:

for, if you like your Selves, you like him too.

An ape his own dear image will embrace;

an ugly beau adores a hatchet face:

so, some of you, on pure instinct of nature,

are led, by kind, t’ admire your fellow creature.

In fear of which, our house has sent this day,

t’ insure our new-built-Vessel, call’d a play;

no sooner nam’d, than one crys out, these stagers

come in good time, to make more work for wagers.

the town divides, if it will take or no;

the courtiers bet, the cits, the merchants too;

a sign they have but little else to do.

Betts at the first were fool-traps; where the wise

like spiders, lay in ambush for the flies;

but now they’re grown a common trade for all,

and actions by the news-book rise and fall;

wits, cheats, and fops are free of wager-hall.

One policy as far as Lyons carries;

another, nearer home sets up for Paris.

Our betts, at last, wou’d ev’n to Rome extend,

but that the pope has proved our trusty friend.

Indeed, it were a bargain, worth our money,

cou’d we insure another Ottobuoni.

Among the rest there are a sharping sett,

that pray for us, and yet against us bett:

sure heav’n it self is at a loss to know

if these wou’d have their pray’rs be heard, or no:

for, in great stakes, we piously suppose,

men pray but very faintly they may lose.

Leave off these wagers; for, in conscience speaking,

the city needs not your new tricks for breaking:

and if you gallants lose, to all appearing

you’ll want an equipage for volunteering;

while thus, no spark of honour left within ye,

when you shou’d draw the sword, you draw the Guinea.

To the marquis of Hallifax Prologue to the opera spoken by mr. Betterton
Act the first Act the second Act the third Act the fourth Act the fifth

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