No, we must do't, come, here's my Cap off taken,
Gill. My Curchy then as well as che can make one;
Crab. Be pleas'd good Sirs to praise what makes ye laugh?
Gill. And chear the Poet with a Smile and half
Crab. Crab then at Home with Stout shall make ye merry,
Gill. And Gillian bid ye welcome to her Dairy;
Crab. I'll grubble all my Jokes up to Delight ye,
Gill. And I'll divert ye with my Hoyty toyty;
With Fortune's choicest Blessings may regale ye,
And Wealth, and Wine, and Women, never fail ye.
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A PROLOGUE.
To my Play, the French Coquet.
AS in Intrigues of Love we find it true,
Stale Faces pall, whilst we are charm'd with new
Our Poet thinking tho' some in Wit prevails, }
Fearing to tire ye with more English Tales, }
Has laid his Scene in the French Court Versailes: }
Thus chang'd your Diet for Variety, }
From Cheese and Butter of our dull degree, }
To fragrant Angelote, and cher fromage de Brie: }
He doubts not, many that sit here to Day, }
That have observ'd the Title to his Play, }
Suppose it for some Politick Essay. }
'Gainst that he says a Proverb gives him Rules,
'Tis never safe to meddle with edg'd Tools;
For Railery, a Comick Theam is best,
War's but a Dull Occasion for a Jest:
And as in Cudgel Play, there comes no Joke,
From either Party when both Heads are broke;
But then perhaps it may expected be, }
That he should fall upon French Foppery; }
'Tis true, they have Fools, egad, and so have we. }
