Tarugo's wiles, or, The coffee-house a comedy : as it was acted at His Highness's the Duke of York's Theater / written by Tho. St Serfe.

The PROLOGUE.

Enter a Gentleman, a Player, and the Poets Man.

Gent.

WHo is the Authour of this new Play?

Po. Serv.

He's a Stranger, and my Master.

Gent.

He must be a bold Stranger indeed that will ven∣ture his reputation to the Censures of our Criticks.

P. Serv.

Heaven forbid that any honest mans reputation shou'd depend upon the making of a Play; But, I must tell you Sir, he had never ventur'd, if he had not seen the Wit of the times so easily acquired.

Gent.

But why is modern wit so easily acquired.

P. Serv.

Because a Trivolino, or a Skaramuchio that's dextrous at ma∣king of mouths will sooner raise a Clap then a high flown Fancy.

Play.

All the better for us if that be true, for we shall have new Playes come on like fresh Herring and Mackarell, all the year about, so that our Wits shall never be out of Season.

aside.

Gent.

But Friend, you are in a monstrous errour; for if your Masters Play be not provided with requisite Materials, both he and it will be con∣demned to the Nursery.

P. Serv.

I pray what do you reckon them Sir?

Gent.

The Plot must be new, the Language easie, the Fancies intelligible, and the Comical part so delicately enterwoven, that both laughter and de∣light may each of them enjoy their proportions.

P. Serv.

I have heard my Master say, that since the restauration of the Stage, he has seen all you have said represented to perfection, and yet blown upon with disdain.

Gent.

That's only by the young sucking fry of Wits; But tell me, has your Masters Play the qualifications I told you of.

P. Serv.

Not one of them, for the Plot is like all others of the time; viz. A new Toot out of an old Horn; and in regard he saw smal things so acceptable, he has dub'd his Trifle with the rest, in hopes that it will prove less considerable then any that's gone before, and consequently ex∣pects a better approbation.

Gent.

By that Character I perceive he's not ambitious to bear up with the Flag-wits.

P. Serv.

Right, onely a small Privatier to skulk among Creeks and Clifts.

Gent.

My advise is then, that he quit the English Shore if he intend to thrive at Wit Capring, for the Natives of that Trade has left so little now to pilfer, that the purchase will not defray the rigging of Ink and Paper, and let him try when he pleases, he'l find the Wit almost as scarce a commodity as the Money.

P. Serv.

My Master was lucky then at his first setting out to cruise the Coast of Spain.

Gent.

If he has done so, he could not miss of a good Prize.

P. Serv.

A small Caravel from Sevill which he freely bestows upon this good company, and that his present might be entire, he has given the Prize∣Office the go-by.

Gent.

He might have saved that labour; for not being matter of money they wou'd ne're a look't after him. But tell me friend, without any more circumlocutions, what way is the Play drest?

P. Serv.

What do you mean by that?

Gent.

That's whether it be set off with Blank verse, Rhyme, or Prose.

P. Serv.

My Master is no Arithmetician, and so defies all numerical com∣position.

Gent.

This is the first Poet that ever I heard of, cou'd not make Verse; But how shall the Expectations of the Audience and the Musick be prepar'd at the ending of Acts.

P. Serv.

I am appointed with an Engine to do that.

Gent.

Which way?

P. Serv.

This way.

[The Poets man takes out a Rattle and whirles it about his Head.

Play.

'Slife, I think this Prose Poets fancy will take; for if I be not mi∣staken, a Rattle will be better understood by a great many here then the best kind of Rhyme.

aside.

[The Gentleman takes the Rattle, and whirles it about.

Gent.

I see no reason but this same Engine ought to alarum the Minstrills to tune their Fiddles, and advertise the Audience to refresh their hams as well as a couplet of Rhyme.

Play.

But Sir, it may scare the Ladies from eating their fruit.

P. Serv.

Pox take you for a Coxcomb, do you take them for Magpyes and Jackdawes.

Gent.

I hope he has drest his Prologue in Rhyme.

P. Serv.

No, I am to be his Jack-Pudding in the case, and deliver it by way of Harangue.

Enter a true Poet, and Friend to the Authour.

Poet.

Forbear Sirrha, you are a sawcy Serving-man; your Master will not be pleas'd at this boldness of yours with this Company. I say be gone with your Jack-Pudding Speech, least the Audience take it for a Directory, and so choak their expectations of the Play.

Poet.

Ladies and Gentleman,

You'r too well bred not to be kind to day, Since 'tis a Stranger that presents the Play: Stranger to our Language, Learning and Ryme; He sayes, to Wit too; and 'tis his first time. No boldness in our Prologue shall appear You, but too frequently meet that elsewhere: Wee onely your Divertisement intend, 'Cause on your Goodness all our hopes depend.