The younger brother, or, The amorous jilt a comedy : acted at the Theatre Royal by His Majesty's servants / written by the late ingenious Mrs. A. Behn ; with some account of her life.

PROLOGUE, by an unknown hand,

Spoke by Mr. Powel.

AS Rivals of each other jealous prove, And both strive which shall gain the Lady's Love, So we for your Affections daily Vse, Not the intrigues in the Galery; (Who squeezes hand of Phillis mask'd, that stood O••ling for sale in V••lvet Scarf, and Hood) Can with more passion his dear Nymph pursue, Than we to make Diversion s••t for you. Grant we may please, and we've our outmost Aim, 'Tis to your favour only we lay Claim, In what can we oblige? Cou'd we present you With Mistress Young, and safe, it wou'd content you; Then husbands weary'd out with Spouse alone, And hen-peck'd Keepers that drudge on with one, I fancy hither wou'd in crewds resort, As thick as Men for Offices to Court: Who'd s••ay behind, the Beau above three score, Wou'd hobble on and gape for one bit more; Men of all Stations, from the Nobles down, To grave Sir Roger in his Cap and Gown, Wou'd hither come; but we some time must take, E're we a project of such moment make; Since that's laid by, for your diversion then, We do invite the Brothers of the pen, The Courtier, Lawyer, Soldier, Player too, Wit ne're had more Encouragement than now, Tho free, or Aliens to our stage we take 'em, Not kick 'em out, but native subjects make 'em: The Ladys too are always welcome here, Let 'em in writing or in Box appear. To that fair Sex we are oblig'd to day, Oh! then be kind to a poor Orphan play, Whose Parent while she liv'd oblig'd you all, You prais'd her living, and you mourn'd her fall. Who cou'd like her, our softer Passions ••••ve, The Life of humour, and the Soul of Lo••••, Wits Eldest Sister, throughout every line, You might perceive some Female Graces shine; For poor Astrea's infant we implore, Let it then live, tho she is now no more.