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Richard Lovelace - A Prologue To The Scholars. A Comaedy Presented At The White Fryers
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A gentleman, to give us somewhat new,
Hath brought up OXFORD with him to show you;
Pray be not frighted—Tho the scaene and gown`s
The Universities, the wit`s the town`s;
The lines each honest Englishman may speake:
Yet not mistake his mother-tongue for Greeke,
For stil `twas part of his vow`d liturgie:—
From learned comedies deliver me!
Wishing all those that lov`d `em here asleepe,
Promising SCHOLARS, but no SCHOLARSHIP.

  You`d smile to see, how he do`s vex and shake,
Speakes naught; but, if the PROLOGUE do`s but take,
Or the first act were past the pikes once, then—
Then hopes and joys, then frowns and fears agen,
Then blushes like a virgin, now to be
Rob`d of his comicall virginity
In presence of you all.  In short, you`d say
More hopes of mirth are in his looks then play.

  These feares are for the noble and the wise;
But if `mongst you there are such fowle dead eyes,
As can damne unaraign`d, cal law their pow`rs,
Judging it sin enough that it is ours,
And with the house shift their decreed desires,
FAIRE still to th` BLACKE, BLACKE still to the WHITE-FRYERS;
He do`s protest he wil sit down and weep
Castles and pyramids    .    .    .
.    .    .    .    .    .    No, he wil on,
Proud to be rais`d by such destruction,
So far from quarr`lling with himselfe and wit,
That he wil thank them for the benefit,
Since finding nothing worthy of their hate,
They reach him that themselves must envy at:
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