The Self-Tormentor: Prologue

Lest any of you wonder, why the BardTo an old actor hath assign'd the partSustain'd of old by young performers; thatI'll first explain: then say what bringsTo-day, a whole play, wholly from the Greek,We mean to represent:--The Self-Tormentor:Wrought from a single to a double plot.Now therefore that our comedy is new,And what it is, I've shown: who wrote it too,And whose in Greek it is, were I not sureMost of you knew already, would I tell.But, wherefore I have ta'en this part upon me,In brief I will deliver: for the BardHas sent me here as pleader, not as Prologue;You he declares his judges, me his counsel:And yet as counsel nothing can I speakMore than the Author teaches me to say,Who wrote th' oration which I now recite.As to reports, which envious men have spread,That he has ransack'd many Grecian plays,While he composes some few Latin ones,That he denies not, he has done; nor doesRepent he did it; means to do it still;Safe in the warrant and authorityOf greater bards, who did long since the same.Then for the charge, that his arch-enemyMaliciously reproaches him withal,That he but lately hath applied himselfTo music, with the genius of his friends,Rather than natural talents, fraught; how true,Your judgment, your opinion, must decide.I would entreat you, therefore, not to leanTo tales of slander, rather than of candor.Be favorable; nurse with growing hopesThe bards, who give you pleasing novelties;Pleasing I say, not such as His I mean,Who lately introduc'd a breathless slave,Making the crowd give way--But wherefore traceA dunce's faults? which shall be shown at large,When more he writes, unless he cease to rail.Attend impartially! and let me onceWithout annoyance act an easy part;Lest your old servant be o'er-labor'd stillWith toilsome characters, the running slave,The eating parasite, enrag'd old man,The bold-fac'd sharper, covetous procurer;Parts, that ask pow'rs of voice, and iron sides.Deign then, for my sake, to accept this plea,And grant me some remission from my labor.For they, who now produce new comedies,Spare not my age! If there is aught laborious,They run to me; but if of little weight,Away to others. In our piece to-dayThe style is pure: now try my talents thenIn either character. If I for gain,Never o'er-rated my abilities;If I have held it still my chief rewardTo be subservient to your pleasure; fixIn me a fair example, that our youthMay seek to please you, rather than themselves.