PROLOGUE[1]
TO A PLAY FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE DISTRESSED WEAVERS.
BY DR. SHERIDAN.
Spoken by Mr. Elrington. 1721.
GREAT cry and little wool — is now become
The plague and proverb of the weaver's loom:
No wool to work on, neither weft nor warp;
Their pockets empty, and their stomachs sharp.
Provok'd, in loud complaints to you they cry:
Ladies, relieve the weavers: or they die!
Forsake your silks for stuffs; nor think it strange,
To shift your clothes, since you delight in change.
One thing with freedom I'll presume to tell —
The men will like you every bit as well.
See I am dress'd from top to toe in stuff;
And, by my troth, I think I'm fine enough:
My wife admires me more, and swears she never,
In any dress, beheld me look so clever.
And if a man be better in such ware,
What great advantage must it give the fair!
Our wool from lambs of innocence proceeds:
Silks come from maggots, calicoes from weeds:
| Hence 'tis by sad experience that we find | |
| Ladies in silks to vapours much inclined — | |
| And what are they but maggots in the mind? |
For
