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Show rf+ The Wild Gallant. Vail. Shall be utterly difcarded ; I knew 'twould come to that T vow to gad. Ifa. Shall be our ^mevthmvup theirCaps, tndcryVm, Madam Ifabelle. L<™ And B A r fhall make our Wedding Cloaths^withouttrufting. B # ' N o , henceforward I'll truft none but landed M e n ; and fuch as have Houfes and ADole T e s in the Country : N o w I have got a Place in the Cuftom-houfe. f 3 No hing vexes me, but that this flirting Gentlewoman fhouId go before me but I'll to the Heralds Office, and fee whether die Queen's Ma,eflies Dreffei Soild not take place of any Knight's Wife in Chnftendom. Oueen'sMaiefty, and no Body muft know on't; I'll lend Mr. Church-Warden wo d o n ^ and Gentlemen, when youcome to St .Bride's Church ( if ever you come to Church Gentlemen) you fhall fee m e in the P e w that's next the Pulpit; thank M r . Loveby's Worfhip for't. . Tlspare your thanks goodLandlady,for the truth is w e came too late; thePlace is gone; and fo is vonvsWill; but you fhall have 200 /.for One,if that will fatisfie you. Franc. This is better N e w s as they fay. Uj(i. Lov. Chear up thy Wife Will: Where are thy Fiddles ? A dance fhould do it: Bib. I'll run and call'em. ..-:« , , //*. I have found out that will comfort her: Henceforward I Chnften her by the name of Madam Bibber. « ^//. AMadamWeT, AMadamB/^r. f Fr*w W h y , I thank you fweet Gentlemen and Ladies, this is a Cordial to m y drooping Spirits: I confefs I was a little Eclips'd ; but I'll chear up with abundance of love, as they fay. Strike up Fiddles Lov. That's a good Wench. . J U ^ - 7V^. This Mufick, and a little nod has recover'd m e ; I'll in and provide for the Sack-PofTet A^.ToBed, to Bed; 'tis late: Son Loveby get m e a Boy to Night, and I'll fettle three thoufand a Year upon him the firft day he calls m e Grandfire. Lov. I'll do m y beft. To make the Bargain fure before Ifteep. Where Love and Money ftrike, the blow goes deep. E P I L O G U E to the WILD T H E Wild Gallant *^J quite phy'd out tis Game •, He's marry'd now, and. that will make him tame ; Or if yon think Marriage mill not reclaim him; the Criticks fwear they'll damn him, but they'll tame him. Tet tbougb our Poet's threatned moft by thefe, They are tibe tnly People be can pleafe : For he to humour them, has flown to day, That which they only lite, a wretched Play: But though his Play be ill, here have been Jhown The greateft Wits and Betmes of the Town. And hit Occafion hiving brought you here, roa are too grateful to become fevtre. GALLANT, as it was firft Aded. there it not any Perfon here fo mean, But he may freely judge each A H and. Scene : But if you bid himcboofe hi sludges then, H e boldly names true Englifh Gentlemen: For he ne'er thought a handfome Garb or Drefs, So great a Crime to make their judgement left: And with thefe Gallants he thefe Ladies pins, To judge that Language their Converfe refines. But if their Cenfures fhould condemn his Play, Far from Difputing, he does only pray. He may Leander's Deftiny obtain: Nowjpire him, drown him when he comes again. E P I L O G U E to the O f all Dramatick Writing, Comick Wit, As 'tis the beft, fo 'tis moft hard to hit. For it lies all in level to the Eye, Where all may judge, and each defetl may fpy. Humour is that which every day we meet, And therefore known as every publick flreet ; In which, if e'er the Poet go aftray, Tou all can point, 'twas there he loft his way. But, what's fo common, to make pleafant too, It more than any Wit can always do. For'tis, like Turks, with H e n and nice, totreat; To make regalio's out of common meat. But, in your Diet you grow Salvages: Nothing but Humane fejb your tafte can pleafe: And, m their Feafts with flaugbter'd Slaves began, So you, at each new Play, muS have a Man. Hither you come, as to fee Prices fought; If no Blood's drawn, you cry the Pri\e is naught. But Fools grow wary now ; and when they fee A Poet Eying round the Company, Straight each Man for himfelf begins to doubt; Iheyfhrink like Seamen when a Prefs comes out. Few of 'em will be found for Publick ufe, Except you charge an Oph upon etch Houfe, WILD GALLANT Reviv'd. Like the train d-Bands, and every Man ingage For a fufficient Fool to ferve the Stage. And, when with much ado you get him there, Where he in all his glory fhou'd appear, Tour Poets make him fuch rare things to fay, that he's more Wit than any Man i'th' Play. But of fo ilia mingle with the reft, ' As when a Parr at's taught to break a jeaft. thus aiming to be fine, they make a fhow As tawdry Squires in Country Churches do Things well confider'd, 'tis fo hard to make A Comedy, which fhould the knowing take: that our dull Poet, in defpair to pleafe, Does humbly beg by me his writ of eafe. 'tis a Land-tax which he's too poor to pay ; Tou, therefore muft fome other impoft lay. Would you but change for ferious Plot and Verje. this motley Garniture of Fool and Farce, Norfcorn a Mode, becaufe 'tis taught at home, Which does, like Vefts, our Gravity become •, Our Poet yields you fhould this Play refufe, As tradesmen, by the change offafhions, loft With fome content their fripperies of France, In hope it may their ftapk Trtk advance. T H E The RIVAL LADIES. To the Right Honourable koger Earl of ORRERY. MY LOR D, T H I S worthlefsPrefent was defign'd you,long before it was a Play; when it was only a confus'd Mafs of Thoughts, tumbling over one another in the Dark : W h e n the Fancy was yet in its firft Work, moving the Sleeping Images of things towards the Light, there to be diftinguifh'd, and then either chofen or rejeaed by the fudgment : It was yours, m y Lord, before I could call it mine. And, I confefs, in that firft Tumult of m y Thoughts, there appear'd adiforderly kind of Beauty in fome of them , which gave m e hope , fome-thing worthy m y Lord of Orrery might be drawn from them: But I was then in rhateagernefsof imagination, which by over-pleafing Fanciful M e n , flatters them into the Danger of Writing ; fo that when I had Molded it to that Shape it now bears, I Iook'd with fucliDifsuft upon it, that the Cenfures of our fevereft Criticks are Charitable to what I thought fand ftill think; of it m y felf: 'Tis fo far from m e to believe this perfect, that I am apt to conclude our beft Plays are fcarce-ly fo ; for the Stage being the Reprefentation of the World, and the Actions ink, how cart it beimagin'd, that the Picture of humane Life can be more Exact than Life it felf is; H e may be allowed ""fometimes to Err, who undertakes to move fo many Characters and Humours as are requifit in.a Play, in thofe narrow Channels which are proper to each of them : T o conduct his imaginary Perfons, through fo many various Intrigues and Chances, as the Labouring Audience fhall think them loft under every Billow; and then at length to Work them fo naturally out of their Diftreffes, that when the whole Plot is laid open, the Spectators may reit fatisfied, that every caufe was powerful enough to produce the effect it had ; and that the whole Chain of them was with fuch due order link'd together, that the firft Accident would naturally beget the fecond, till they all render'd the Con-clufion- neceffary. Thefe difficulties, m y Lord, may rcafohably excufe the Errors of m y undertaking ; but for this confidence of m y Dedication, I have an Argument which is too Advantagious for me, not to publifh it to the World. 'Tis the kindnefs your Lordfhip has continually fhown to all m y Writings. You have been pleas'd, m y Lordr they fhould fometimes crofs the lriflj Seas to Kifs your Hands; which Paffage(con-trary to the Experience of others) I have found the leaft dangerous in the World. Your favour has fhone upon m e at a remote diftance, without the leaft knowledge of m y Perfon; and (like the Influence of the Heavenly Bodies) you have done good without knowing to w h o m you did it. 'Tis this Virtue in your Lordfhip,, which imboldens m e to this attempt: For did I not confider you as m y Patron, I have little reafon to defire you for m y Judge; and fhould appear with as much awe before you in the Reading, as I had when the full Theater fat upon the, Action. For who could fo feverely judge of faults as he, who has given Teftimony he commits none; your Excellent Poems having afforded that knowledge of it to the World, that your Enemies are ready to upbraid you with it, as a Crime for a M a n of bufinefs to Write fo well. Neither durft I have juftified your Lordfhip in it, if examples of it had not been in the World before you, [(Xenophon had not written a Romance, and a certain Roman, call'd Juguftiu Cafar, a Tragedy, and Epigrams. But their Writing was the Entertainment of their Pleafure; Yours is only a Diverfion of your Pain. The Mufes have feldom employed your Thoughts, but when fome violent Fit ofthe Gout has fnatch'd you from affairs of State: And, like thePrieftefs of Apollo, you never come to deliver his Oracles but Unwillingly, and in torment. So that w e are oblig'd to your Lordfhips mifery for our Delight : You treat us with the Cruel pleafure of a Turkifh Triumph, where thofe w h o cut and W o u n d their Bodies, fing Songs of Victory as they pafs, and divert others with their o w n Sufferings. Other M e n indure their Difeafes, your Lordfhip onlv can enjoy them. Plotting and Writing in this kind , are certainly more trou-blcfome employments than many which fignifie more, and are of greater moment 1 2 in |