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How Scylla bark'd, and Polyphemus roard:
He doth not trouble Us with Leda's Eggs,
When he begins to write the Trojan War;
Nor writing the return of Diomed,
Go back as far as Meleagers Death:
Nothing is idle, each judicious Line
Insensibly acquaints Us with the Plot;
He chooses only what he can improve,
And Truth and Fiction are so aptly mix'd
That all seems Uniform, and of a piece.
Now hear what every Auditor expects;
If you intend that he should stay to hear
The Epilogue, and see the Curtain fall;
Mind how our tempers alter with our years,
And by those Rules form all your Characters:
One that hath newly learn'd to speak and go,
Loves childish Plays, is soon provok'd and pleas'd,
He doth not trouble Us with Leda's Eggs,
When he begins to write the Trojan War;
Nor writing the return of Diomed,
Go back as far as Meleagers Death:
Nothing is idle, each judicious Line
Insensibly acquaints Us with the Plot;
He chooses only what he can improve,
And Truth and Fiction are so aptly mix'd
That all seems Uniform, and of a piece.
Now hear what every Auditor expects;
If you intend that he should stay to hear
The Epilogue, and see the Curtain fall;
Mind how our tempers alter with our years,
And by those Rules form all your Characters:
One that hath newly learn'd to speak and go,
Loves childish Plays, is soon provok'd and pleas'd,
And
