Love's a lottery and a woman the prize with a new masque call'd Love and riches reconcil'd : as it was acted by His Majesties servants at the theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields.

About this Item

Title
Love's a lottery and a woman the prize with a new masque call'd Love and riches reconcil'd : as it was acted by His Majesties servants at the theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields.
Author
Harris, Joseph, ca. 1650-ca. 1715.
Publication
London :: Printed for Daniel Brown ... and Edmund Rumball ...,
1699.
Rights/Permissions

To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.

Cite this Item
"Love's a lottery and a woman the prize with a new masque call'd Love and riches reconcil'd : as it was acted by His Majesties servants at the theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A45650.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 20, 2024.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

THE PROLOGUE, Writ by a Person of Quality.

FAITH, Gentlemen, to lay aside all Flattery, I needs must tell ye, the whole World's a Lottery: And Fortune with her Tickets plays such pranks, Y'ave for One Fortunate, a Million Blanks. But what's all this to th' purpose? Yes, for why, This Farce to Night is call'd a Lottery: And 'tis a Pound to a Penny if it hit, 'Cause Men of Fortune are to judge of it; And they'l ne're mind your Poet's Wit or Art, Men of no Fortune for the greatest part. 'Tis strange, methinks, to see how some will roar 'Gainst Fortune, still calling her damn'd confounded Whore! We have no reason for't, what Lady coyer? Tho' all Men court her, very few enjoy her. Why is our Author then that Fool to venture? That's not the Point— The Stars themselves oft wander from their Center: And to be plain, he is in hopes to find The Favourites of Fortune obliging kind. Nothing Prophane nor yet immodest here, Shall dare to wound a Chaste and Vertuous Ear; Ill manner'd Bawdry shall not here intrude, The Stage Reform'd, shall nothing bear that's rude. So will triumphant Folly be defac't, And Vice no longer shine, but be disgrac't: The Fair, and Vertuous then may safely sit, And, without blushing, judge of Sense and Wit.
Do you have questions about this content? Need to report a problem? Please contact us.