Love for Love | Page 4

tempted Eve.
We who remain would gratefully
repay
What our endeavours can, and bring this day
The first-fruit
offering of a virgin play.
We hope there's something that may please
each taste,
And though of homely fare we make the feast,
Yet you
will find variety at least.
There's humour, which for cheerful friends
we got,
And for the thinking party there's a plot.
We've something,
too, to gratify ill-nature,
(If there be any here), and that is satire.

Though satire scarce dares grin, 'tis grown so mild
Or only shows its
teeth, as if it smiled.
As asses thistles, poets mumble wit,
And dare
not bite for fear of being bit:
They hold their pens, as swords are held
by fools,
And are afraid to use their own edge-tools.
Since the
Plain-Dealer's scenes of manly rage,

Not one has dared to lash this
crying age.
This time, the poet owns the bold essay,
Yet hopes
there's no ill-manners in his play;
And he declares, by me, he has
designed
Affront to none, but frankly speaks his mind.
And should
th' ensuing scenes not chance to hit,
He offers but this one excuse,
'twas writ
Before your late encouragement of wit.

EPILOGUE. Spoken, at the opening of the new house, by Mrs

Bracegirdle.
Sure Providence at first designed this place
To be the player's refuge
in distress;
For still in every storm they all run hither,
As to a shed
that shields 'em from the weather.
But thinking of this change which
last befel us,
It's like what I have heard our poets tell us:
For when
behind our scenes their suits are pleading,
To help their love,
sometimes they show their reading;
And, wanting ready cash to pay
for hearts,
They top their learning on us, and their parts.
Once of
philosophers they told us stories,
Whom, as I think, they
called--Py--Pythagories,
I'm sure 'tis some such Latin name they give
'em,
And we, who know no better, must believe 'em.
Now to these
men, say they, such souls were given,
That after death ne'er went to
hell nor heaven,
But lived, I know not how, in beasts; and then

When many years were past, in men again.
Methinks, we players
resemble such a soul,
That does from bodies, we from houses stroll.

Thus Aristotle's soul, of old that was,
May now be damned to
animate an ass,
Or in this very house, for ought we know,
Is doing
painful penance in some beau;
And thus our audience, which did once
resort
To shining theatres to see our sport,
Now find us tossed into a
tennis-court.
These walls but t'other day were filled with noise
Of
roaring gamesters and your dam'me boys;
Then bounding balls and
rackets they encompast,
And now they're filled with jests, and flights,
and bombast! I vow, I don't much like this transmigration,
Strolling
from place to place by circulation;
Grant heaven, we don't return to
our first station!
I know not what these think, but for my part
I can't
reflect without an aching heart,
How we should end in our original, a
cart.
But we can't fear, since you're so good to save us,

That you
have only set us up, to leave us.
Thus from the past we hope for
future grace,
I beg it -
And some here know I have a begging face.

Then pray continue this your kind behaviour,
For a clear stage
won't do, without your favour.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
SIR SAMPSON LEGEND, father to Valentine and Ben,--Mr Underhill.
VALENTINE, fallen under his father's displeasure by his expensive
way of living, in love with Angelica,--Mr Betterton.
SCANDAL, his
friend, a free speaker,--Mr Smith.
TATTLE, a half-witted beau, vain
of his amours, yet valuing himself for secrecy,--Mr Bowman.
BEN,
Sir Sampson's younger son, half home-bred and half sea-bred, designed
to marry Miss Prue,--Mr Dogget.
FORESIGHT, an illiterate old
fellow, peevish and positive,
superstitious, and pretending to
understand astrology, palmistry, physiognomy, omens, dreams, etc;
uncle to Angelica,--Mr Sanford. JEREMY, servant to Valentine,--Mr
Bowen.
TRAPLAND, a scrivener,--Mr Triffusis.
BUCKRAM, a
lawyer,--Mr Freeman.
WOMEN.
ANGELICA, niece to Foresight, of a considerable fortune in her own
hands,--Mrs Bracegirdle.
MRS FORESIGHT, second wife to
Foresight,--Mrs Bowman.
MRS FRAIL, sister to Mrs Foresight, a
woman of the town,--Mrs Barry. MISS PRUE, daughter to Foresight by
a former wife, a silly, awkward country girl,--Mrs Ayliff.
NURSE to
MISS,--Mrs Leigh.
JENNY,--Mrs Lawson.
A STEWARD, OFFICERS, SAILORS, AND SEVERAL
SERVANTS.
The Scene in London.
LOVE FOR LOVE--ACT I.--SCENE I.
VALENTINE in his chamber reading. JEREMY waiting.
Several books upon the table.

VAL. Jeremy.
JERE. Sir?
VAL. Here, take away. I'll walk a turn and digest what I have read.
JERE. You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet. [Aside, and taking
away the books.]
VAL. And d'ye hear, go you to breakfast. There's a page doubled down
in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor.
JERE. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?
VAL. Read, read, sirrah, and refine your appetite; learn to live upon
instruction; feast your mind and mortify your flesh; read, and take your
nourishment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of
understanding. So Epictetus advises.
JERE. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when