Prologue

THE PROLOGUE 

GALLANTS, be 't known as yet we cannot say
To whom we are beholding for this play.
But this our poet hath licens'd us to tell:
Ingenious Italy hath liked it well,
Yet it is no translation, for he ne'er
But twice in Venice did it ever hear.
There it did take, and he doth hope if you
Have your old humours it will please here too.
He swears he hath not spoil'd it, and protest
We think it good though he doth none o' th best;
You often have heard worse i' th' house before,
And had we made the Prologue we'd say more.
That labour he hath sav'd us, 'cause he would
No partial friend should cry it up for good.
An excellent new comedy, as you say,
When you have seen't, he so will judge his play.
He is not peremptory like to some
Who think that all is best from them doth come.
Ladies and gentlemen, you that do know
To censure rightly as you think, so do.
Our poet scorns to beg your hands, yet faith
That at the end if he the favour hath.
This shall not be his last that he'll endeavour
To gratify you shortly with another.
Howe'er it takes he for your presence sends,
His thanks by me and hopes we shall part friends.

On to Act One.