PROLOGUE.

By the Author of TUNBRIDGE-WALKS.


Tho' modern Prophets were expos'd of late,
The Author cou'd not Prophesie his Fate;
If with such Scenes an Audience had been Fir'd,
The Poet must have really been Inspir'd.
But these, alas! are Melancholy Days
For Modern Prophets, and for Modern Plays.
Yet since Prophetick Lyes please Fools o'Fashion,
And Women are so fond of Agitation;
To Men of Sense, I'll Prophesie anew,
And tell you wond'rous things, that will prove true:
_Undaunted Collonels will to Camps repair,_
_Assur'd, there'll be no Skirmishes this Year;_
On our own Terms will flow the wish'd-for Peace,
All Wars, except 'twixt Man and Wife, will cease.
The Grand Monarch may wish his Son a Throne,
But hardly will advance to lose his own.
This Season most things bear a smiling Face;
But Play'rs in Summer have a dismal Case,
Since your Appearance only is our Act of Grace.
Court Ladies will to Country Seats be gone,
My Lord can't all the Year live Great in Town,
Where wanting _Opera's_, _Basset_, and a _Play_,