Chapter IX: Prologue: To the 'maid's Tragedy.'1

Scarce should we have the boldness to pretend So long-renown'd a tragedy to mend, Had not already some deserved your praise With like attempt. Of all our elder plays This and _Philaster_ have the loudest fame; Great are their faults, and glorious is their flame. In both our English genius is express'd; 7 Lofty and bold, but negligently dress'd.

Above our neighbours our conceptions are; But faultless writing is th'effect of care. Our lines reform'd, and not composed in haste, Polished like marble, would like marble last.[2] But as the present, so the last age writ; In both we find like negligence and wit. Were we but less indulgent to our faults, And patience had to cultivate our thoughts, Our Muse would flourish, and a nobler rage Would honour this than did the Grecian stage.

Thus says our author, not content to see That others write as carelessly as he; 20 Though he pretends not to make things complete, Yet, to please you, he'd have the poets sweat.

In this old play, what's new we have express'd In rhyming verse, distinguish'd from the rest; That as the Rhone its hasty way does make (Not mingling waters) through Geneva's lake, So having here the different styles in view, You may compare the former with the new.

If we less rudely shall the knot untie, Soften the rigour of the tragedy, 30 And yet preserve each person's character, Then to the other this you may prefer. 'Tis left to you: the boxes and the pit, Are sov'reign judges of this sort of wit. In other things the knowing artist may Judge better than the people; but a play, (Made for delight, and for no other use) If you approve it not, has no excuse.

[1] 'Maid's Tragedy': Waller altered this tragedy without success. [2] 'Marble last': these lines occur in a previous poem.