But I found myself in great danger of a
long play, and was glad to help it where I could. Though
notwithstanding my care and the kind reception it had from the town,
I could heartily wish it yet shorter: but the number of different
characters represented in it would have been too much crowded in
less room.
This reflection on prolixity (a fault for which scarce any one
beauty will atone) warns me not to be tedious now, and detain your
lordship any longer with the trifles of, my lord, your lordship's
most obedient and most humble servant,
WILLIAM CONGREVE.
PROLOGUE. Spoken, at the opening of the new house, by Mr Betterton.
The husbandman in vain renews his toil
To cultivate each year a hungry soil;
And fondly hopes for rich and generous fruit,
When what should feed the tree devours the root;
Th' unladen boughs, he sees, bode certain dearth,
Unless transplanted to more kindly earth.
So the poor husbands of the stage, who found
Their labours lost upon ungrateful ground,
This last and only remedy have proved,
And hope new fruit from ancient stocks removed.
Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid,
Well plant a soil which you so rich have made.
As Nature gave the world to man's first age,
So from your bounty, we receive this stage;
The freedom man was born to, you've restored,
And to our world such plenty you afford,
It seems like Eden, fruitful of its own accord.
But since in Paradise frail flesh gave way,
And when but two were made, both went astray;
Forbear your wonder, and the fault forgive,
If in our larger family we grieve
One falling Adam and one tempted Eve.
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