Poems: by Francis Beaumont, Gent.: Viz. The hermaphrodite. The remedy of love. Elegies. Sonnets, with other poems.

The Prologue to the Play, called, The Chances.

APtnesse for mirth to all this instant night Thalia hath prepar'd for your delight; Her choice and curious Vyands in each part, Season'd with rarities of wit, as Art. Nor feare I to be tax'd for a vaine boast, My promise will find credit with the most, When they know ingenious Fletcher made it, he Being in himselfe a perfect Comedy; And some sit here, I doubt not, dare averre, Living, he made that house a Theater Which he pleas'd to frequent; and thus much we Could not but play to his loud memory. For our selves we do intreat that you would not Expect strange turnes and windings in the Plot, Objects of State, and now and then a Rhime To gaule particular persons with the time; Or that his towring Muse hath made her flight Nearer your apprehension than your sight: But if that sweet Expression, quick Conceit, Familiar Language fashion'd to the weight, Of such as speake it have the power to raise Your grace to us, with Trophies to his praise, We may professe, presuming on his skill, If his Chances please not you, our fortune's ill.

The Epilogue.

VVE have not held you long, One brow in this selected Company Assuring a dislike our paines were eas'd, Could we be confident that all rise pleas'd, But such ambition soares too high: If we Have satisfied the best, and they agree In a faire Censure, we have our reward. And in them Arm'd desire no surer guard.