The Step-Mother: Prologue

This play is call'd the STEP-MOTHER. When firstIt was presented, such a hurricane,A tumult so uncommon interven'd,It neither could be seen nor understood:So taken were the people, so engag'dBy a rope-dancer!--It is now brought onAs a new piece: and he who wrote the playSuffer'd it not to be repeated then,That he might profit by a second sale.Others, his plays, you have already known;Now then, let me beseech you, know this too.

I come a pleader, in the shape of prologue:Let me then gain my cause, and now grown old.Experience the same favor as when young;Who then recover'd many a lost play,Breath'd a new life into the scenes, and sav'dThe author and his writings from oblivion.Of those which first I studied of Caecilius,In some I was excluded; and in someHardly maintain'd my ground. But knowing wellThe variable fortunes of the scene,I was content to hazard certain toilFor an uncertain gain. I undertookTo rescue those same plays from condemnation,And labor'd to reverse your sentence on them;That the same Poet might afford me more,And no ill fortune damp young Genius in him.My cares prevail'd; the plays were heard; and thusDid I restore an Author, nearly lostThrough the malevolence of adversaries,To study, labor, and the Poet's art.But had I at that time despis'd his plays,Or labor'd to deter him from the task,It had been easy to have kept him idle,And to have scar'd him from attempting more:For my sake, therefore, deign to hear with candorThe suit I mean to offer to you now.

Once more I bring the STEP-MOTHER before you,Which yet in silence I might never play;So did confusion crush it: which confusionYour prudence may allay, if it will deignTo second our endeavors.--When I firstBegan to play this piece, the sturdy Boxers,(The dancers on the rope expected too,)Th' increasing crowds, the noise and women's clamor,Oblig'd me to retire before my time.I, upon this occasion, had recourseTo my old way. I brought it on again.In the first act I please: meanwhile there spreadsA rumor of the Gladiators: thenThe people flock together, riot, roar,And fight for places. I meanwhile my placeCould not maintain--To-day there's no disturbance;All's silence and attention; a clear stage:'Tis yours to give these games their proper grace.Let not, oh let not the Dramatic ArtFall to a few! let your authorityAssist and second mine! if I for gainNe'er overrated my abilities,If I have made it still my only careTo be obedient to your will, oh grantThat he who hath committed his performanceTo my defense, and who hath thrown himselfOn your protection, be not giv'n to scorn,And foul derision of his envious foes!

Admit this plea for my sake, and be silent;That other Poets may not fear to write,That I too may hereafter find it meetTo play new pieces bought at my expense.