the honour I do myself in this epistle, without the vanity of attempting to add to or explain your Lordship's character.

I confess it is not without some struggling that I behave myself in this case as I ought; for it is very hard to be pleased with a subject, and yet forbear it. But I choose rather to follow Pliny's precept, than his example, when in his panegyric to the Emperor Trajan he says "Nec minus considerabo quid aures ejus pati possint, quam quid virtutibus debeatur."

I hope I may be excused the pedantry of a quotation, when it is so justly applied. Here are some lines in the print (and which your Lordship read before this play was acted) that were omitted on the stage, and particularly one whole scene in the third Act, which not only helps the design forward with less precipitation, but also heightens the ridiculous character of Foresight, which indeed seems to be maimed without it. But I found myself in great danger of a long play, and was glad to help it where I could. Though notwithstanding my care, and the kind reception it had from the town, I could hardly wish it yet shorter; but the number of different characters represented in it would have been too much crowded in less room.

This reflection on prolixity (a fault for which scarce any one beauty will atone) warns me not to be tedious now, and detain your Lordship any longer with the trifles of, my Lord, your Lordship's most obedient, and most humble servant,

WILL, CONGREVE.

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN, AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW HOUSE,
BY MR. BETTERTON.1

THE husbandman in vain renews his toil,
To cultivate each year a hungry soil;

And fondly hopes for rich and generous fruit,
When what should feed the tree devours the root;
The unladen boughs, he sees, bode certain dearth,
Unless transplanted to more kindly earth.
So, the poor husbands of the stage, who found
Their labours lost upon ungrateful ground,
This last and only remedy have proved,

And hope new fruit from ancient stocks removed.
Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid,
Well plant a soil which you so rich have made.
As Nature gave the world to man's first age,
So from your bounty we receive this stage;
The freedom man was born to you've restored.
And to our world such plenty you afford,

It seems like Eden, fruitful of its own accord.
But since in Paradise frail flesh gave way,
And when but two were made, both went astray;
Forbear your wonder and the fault forgive,

If in our larger family we grieve

One falling Adam, and one tempted Eve.
We who remain would gratefully repay

What our endeavours can, and bring, this day,

The most celebrated actor of the day-the "phoenix of the stage" (born 1635, died 1710.) According to Pepys, he was "the best actor in the world." The new house was Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre, built on the site of a tennis court, by Congreve, Betterton, Mrs. Barry, and Mrs. Bracegirdle, and opened April 30, 1695, with this comedy. Betterton appears to have acted the principal part in all of Congreve's plays on their first representation.

The first-fruit offering of a virgin play.

We hope there's something that may please each taste, And though of homely fare we make the feast,

Yet you will find variety at least.

There's humour, which for cheerful friends we got,
And for the thinking party there's a plot.
We've something, too, to gratify ill-nature,

(If there be any here) and that is satire;

Though satire scarce dares grin, 'tis grown so mild,
Or only shows its teeth as if it smiled.
As asses thistles, poets mumble wit,
And dare not bite, for fear of being bit.

They hold their pens, as swords are held by fools,
And are afraid to use their own edge-tools.
Since The Plain Dealer's scenes of manly rage,
Not one has dared to lash this crying age.
This time the poet owns the bold essay,
Yet hopes there's no ill-manners in his play :
And he declares by me, he has designed
Affront to none, but frankly speaks his mind.
And should the ensuing scenes not chance to hit,
He offers but this one excuse, 'twas writ
Before your late encouragement of wit.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR SAMPSON LEGEND, Father of VALENTINE and
BEN.
VALENTINE, fallen under his Father's displeasure by

his expensive way of living, in love with ANGELICA. SCANDAL, his Friend, a free speaker.

TATTLE, a half-witted Beau, vain of his amours, yet valuing himself for secrecy.

BEN, SIR SAMPSON'S younger Son, half home-bred, and half sea-bred, designed to marry MISS Prue. FORESIGHT, an illiterate old fellow, peevish and positive, superstitious, and pretending to understand Astrology, Palmistry, Physiognomy, Omens, Dreams, &c., Uncle to ANGELICA.

JEREMY, Servant to VALENTINE,
TRAPLAND, a Scrivener.

BUCKRAM, a Lawyer.

SNAP, a Bailiff.

ANGELICA, Niece to FORESIGHT, of a considerable Fortune in her own hands.

MRS. FORESIGHT, second Wife of FORESIGHT.

MRS. FRAIL, Sister to MRS. FORESIGHT, a Woman of the Town.

MISS PRUE, Daughter of FORESIGHT by a former Wife, a silly awkward country Girl.

Nurse to MISS PRUE.

JENNY, Maid to ANGELICA.

Stewards, Sailors, and Servants.

SCENE-LONDON.

Val. Here, take away; I'll walk a turn, and digest what I have read. Jer. [Aside.] You'll grow devilish [Takes away the books. Val. And d'ye hear, you go to breakfast.-There's a page doubled down in Epictetus that is a feast for an emperor.

fat upon this paper diet.

Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?

Val. Read, read, sirrah! and refine your appetite; learn to live upon instruction; feast your mind, and mortify your flesh; read, and take your nourishment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of understanding; so Epictetus advises.

Jer. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I waited.