html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }'Tis not in this, as in the former Age,
When Wit alone suffic'd t' Adorn the Stage,
When things well said, an Audience cou'd Invite,
Without the hope of such a Gaudy Sight:
What with your Fathers took, wou'd take with you,
If Wit had still the Charm of being New;
Had not Enjoyment dull'd your Appetite,
She in her homely Dress wou'd yet delight;
Such stately Theatres we need not raise,
Our Old House wou'd put off our dullest Plays.
You Gallants know, a fresh Wench of Sixteen,
May drive the Trade in Honest Bombarine,
And never want good Custom, shou'd she lie
In a Back-Room, two or three Stories high:
But such a Beauty as has long been known,
Though not decay'd, but to Perfection grown,
Must, if she mean to thrive in this lewd Town,
Wear Points, Lac'd-Petticoats, and a rich Gown;
Her Lodgings too, must with her Dress agree,
Be hung with Damask, or with Tapestry;
Have China, Cabinets, and a great Glass,
To strike respect into an Am'rous Ass.
Without the help of Stratagems and Arts,
An old Acquaintance cannot touch your Hearts.
Methinks 'tis hard our Authors shou'd submit
So tamely to their Predecessors wit,
Since, I am sure, among you there are few
Wou'd grant your Grandfathers had more than you:
But hold! I in this business may proceed too far,
And raise a storm against our Theatre;
}And then what wou'd the wise Adventurers say,
Who were in a much greater Fright to day
Than ever Poet was about his Play?
Our apprehensions none can justly blame,
Money is dearer much to us than Fame:
This thought on, let our Poets justifie
The Reputation of their Poetry;
We are resolv'd we will not have to do
With what's between those Gentlemen and you.
Be kind, and let our House have but your praise,
You're welcome every to damn their Plays.