1677 THE ROVER; OR THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS by Aphra Behn THE ROVER; or,
the Banish'd Cavaliers. PART I. PROLOGUE, Written by a Person of
Quality. WITS, like Physicians, never can agree, When of a different
Society; And Rabel's Drops were never more cry'd down By all the
Learned Doctors of the Town, Than a new Play, whose author is unknown:
Nor can those Doctors with more Malice sue (And powerful Purses) the
dissenting Few, Than those with an insulting Pride do rail At all who
are not of their own Cabal. If a Young Poet hit your Humour right, You
judge him then out of Revenge and Spite; So amongst Men there are
ridiculous Elves, Who Monkeys hate for being too like themselves: So
that the Reason of the Grand Debate, Why Wit so oft is damn'd, when
good Plays take, Is, that you censure as you love or hate. Thus, like
a learned Conclave, Poets sit Catholick Judges both of Sense and Wit,
And damn or save, as they themselves think fit. Yet those who to
others Faults are so severe, Are not so perfect, but themselves may
err. Some write correct indeed, but then the whole (Bating their own
dull Stuff i'th' Play) is stole: As Bees do suck from Flowers their
Honey-dew, So they rob others, striving to please you. Some write
their Characters genteel and fine, But then they do so toil for every
Line, That what to you does easy seem, and plain, Is the hard issue of
their labouring Brain.
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