PROLOGUE.
TO cheat the most Judicious Eyes, there be
Ways in all Trades, but this of Poetry:
Your Tradesman shews his Ware by some false Light,
To hide the Faults, and slightness from your Sight.
Nay, though 'tis full of Bracks, he'll boldly swear
'Tis excellent, and so help off his Ware.
He'll rule your Judgment by his Confidence,
Which in a Poet you'd call Impudence;
Nay, if the World afford the like again,
He swears he'll give it you for nothing then:
Those are words too a Poet dares not say;
Let it be good or bad, you'r sure to pay.
—Wou'd 'twere a pen'worth;—but in this you are
Abler to judge than he that made the Ware:
However his design was well enough,
He try'd to shew some newer fashion'd Stuff.
Not that the name Committee can be new,
That has been too well known to most of you:
But you may smile, for you have past your doom;
The Poet dares not, his is still to come.