Prologue to a new play call'd The disappointment, or, The mother in fashion spoken by Mr. Betterton. Dryden, John, 1631-1700. 1684 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 2 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A36665 Wing D2334 ESTC R15021 12208212 ocm 12208212 56211 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A36665) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 56211) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 64:11) Prologue to a new play call'd The disappointment, or, The mother in fashion spoken by Mr. Betterton. Dryden, John, 1631-1700. Southerne, Thomas, 1660-1746. Disappointment. Stafford-Howard, John, d. 1714. 1 sheet ([2] p.) Printed for E. Lucy, London : 1684. In verse. Attributed to John Dryden. Cf. NUC pre-1956. "Epilogue by another hand" is by the Hon. John Stafford: p. [2]. The play was written by Thomas Southerne. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. 2002-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-09 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-10 John Latta Sampled and proofread 2002-10 John Latta Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-12 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion PROLOGUE To a NEW PLAY , Call'd , The Disappointment : OR , The Mother in Fashion . Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON . HOW comes it , Gentlemen , that now aday's When all of you so shrewdly judge of Plays , Our Poets tax you still with want of Sence ? All Prologues treat you at your own Expence . Sharp Citizens a wiser way can go ; They make you Fools , but never call you so . They , in good Manners , seldom make a Slip , But , Treat a Common Whore with Ladyship : But here each sawcy Wit at Random , writes , And uses Ladies as he use's Knights . Our Author , Young , and Grateful in his Nature , Vow 's , that from him no Nymph deserves a Satyr . Nor will he ever Draw — I mean his Rhime , Against the sweet Partaker of his Crime . Nor is he yet so bold an Undertaker To call MEN Fools , 't is Railing at their MAKER . Besides , he fears to split upon that Shelf ; He 's young enough to be a FOPP himself . And , if his Praise can bring you all A-bed , He swears such hopeful Youth no Nation ever bred . Your Nurses , we presume , in such a Case , Your Father chose , because he lik'd the Face ; And , often , they supply'd your Mothers place . The Dry Nurse was your Mothers ancient Maid , Who knew some former Slip she ne're betray'd . Betwixt 'em both , for Milk and Sugar Candy , Your sucking Bottles were well stor'd with Brandy . Your Father to initiate your Discourse Meant to have taught you first to Swear and Curse ; But was prevented by each careful Nurse . For , leaving Dad and Mam , as Names too common , They taught you certain parts of Man and Woman . I pass your Schools , for there when first you came , You wou'd be sure to learn the Latin name . In Colledges you scorn'd their Art of thinking , But learn'd all Moods and Figures of good Drinking : Thence , come to Town you practise Play , to know The Vertues of the High Dice , and the Low. Each thinks himself a SHARPER most profound : He cheats by Pence ; is cheated by the Pound : With these Perfections , and what else he Gleans , The SPARK sets up for Love behind our Scenes ; Hot in pursuit of Princesses and Queens . There , if they know their Man , with cunning Carriage , Twenty to one but it concludes in Marriage . He hires some Homely Room , Love's Fruits to gather , And , Garret-high , Rebels against his Father . But he once dead — Brings her in Triumph , with her Portion down , A Twillet , Dressing-Box , and Half a Crown . Some Marry first , and then they fall to Scowring , Which is , Refining Marriage into Whoring . Our Women batten well on their good Nature , All they can rap and rend for the dear Creature . But while abroad so liberal the DOLT is , Poor SPOUSE at Home as Ragged as a Colt is . Last , some there are , who take their first Degrees Of Lewdness , in our Middle Galleries : The Doughty BULLIES enter Bloody Drunk , Invade and grubble one another's PUNK : They Caterwaul , and make a dismal Rout , Call SONS of WHORES , and strike , but ne're lugg-out : Thus while for Paultry Punk they roar and stickle , They make it Bawdier than a CONVENTICLE . EPILOGUE BY ANOTHER HAND . YOU saw our Wife was Chaste , yet throughly try'd , And , without doubt , y' are hugely edify'd ; For , like our Heroe , whom we shew'd to day , You think no Woman true , but in a Play ; Love once did make a pretty kind of Show , Esteem and Kindness in one Breast wou'd grow , But 't was Heav'n knows how many years ago . Now some small Chatt , and Guinney Expectation , Gets all the pretty Creatures in the Nation : In Comedy , your Little Selves you meet ; 'T is Covent-Garden , drawn in Bridges-street . Smile on our Author then , if he has shown , A jolly Nut-brown Bastard of your own . Ah! Happy you , with Ease and with Delight , Who act those Follies , Poets toil to write ! The sweating Muse does almost leave the Chace , She puffs , and hardly keeps your Protean Vices pace . Pinch you but in one Vice , away you fly To some new Frisk of Contrariety . You rowle like Snow-Balls , gathering as you run , And get seven Dev'ls , when dispossess'd of one . Your Venus once was a Platonique Queen , Nothing of Love beside the Face was seen ; But every Inch of Her you now Uncase , And clap a Vizard-Masque upon the Face . For Sins like these , the Zealous of the Land , With Little Hair , and Little or no Band , Declare how circulating Pestilences Watch every Twenty Years , to snap Offences . Saturn , even now , takes Doctoral Degrees , Hee 'l do your work this Summer , without Fees. Let all the Boxes , Phoebus , find thy Grace , And , ah , preserve thy Eighteen-penny Place ! But for the Pit Confounders , let 'em go , And find as little Mercy as they show : The Actors thus and thus , thy Poets pray ; For every Critick sav'd , thou damn'st a Play. LONDON , Printed for E. Lucy . M.DC.LXXXIV .