Tell her that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung

In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired;
Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;

How small a part of time they share

That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

SUNG BY MRS. KNIGHT, TO HER MAJESTY, ON HER BIRTHDAY.

HIS happy day two lights are seen,

THIS

A glorious saint, a matchless queen ;'
Both named alike, both crowned appear,
The saint above, the Infanta here.
May all those years which Catherine
The martyr did for heaven resign,
Be added to the line

Of your blessed life among us here!
For all the pains that she did feel,
And all the torments of her wheel,
May you as many pleasures share!
May Heaven itself content

With Catherine the Saint!

*

* Queen Catherine was born on the day set apart in the calendar for the commemoration of the martyrdom of St. Catherine.

Without appearing old,
An hundred times may you,
With eyes as bright as now,
This welcome day behold!

A

Prologues and Epilogues.

PROLOGUE FOR THE LADY-ACTORS :*

SPOKEN BEFORE KING CHARLES II.

MAZE us not with that majestic frown,

But lay aside the greatness of your crown! And for that look which does your people awe, When in your throne and robes you give them law, Lay it by here, and give a gentler smile! Such as we see great Jove's in picture, while He listens to Apollo's charming lyre, Or judges of the songs he does inspire. Comedians on the stage show all their skill, And after do as Love and Fortune will. We are less careful, hid in this disguise; In our own clothes more serious and more wise. Modest at home, upon the stage more bold, We seem warm lovers, though our breasts be cold; A fault committed here deserves no scorn, If we act well the parts to which we're born.

* The lady-actors at the court of Charles II. composed the most brilliant company, perhaps, on record. The two princesses, afterwards Queens of England, the Duke and Duchess of Monmouth, the former condescending to appear as a dancer, the Duchess of Marlborough, and nearly all the ladies of celebrity, acted in the masks and plays presented at Whitehall, either in principal characters, or in the groups of dancers, nymphs, and attendants.

PROLOGUE TO THE 'MAID'S TRAGEDY.'*

SCARCE should we have the boldness to pretend
So long-renowned a tragedy to mend,
Had not already some deserved your praise
With like attempt. Of all our elder plays
This and Philaster have the loudest fame;
Great are their faults, and glorious is their flame.
In both our English genius is expressed;
Lofty and bold, but negligently dressed.

Above our neighbours our conceptions are;
But faultless writing is the effect of care.
Our lines reformed, and not composed in haste,
Polished like marble, would like marble last.
But as the present, so the last age writ;
In both we find like negligence and wit.
Were we but less indulgent to our faults,
And patience had to cultivate our thoughts,
Our Muse would flourish, and a nobler rage
Would honour this than did the Grecian stage.
Thus says our author, not content to see
That others write as carelessly as he;
Though he pretends not to make things complete,
Yet, to please you, he'd have the poets sweat.

In this old play, what's new we have expressed In rhyming verse, distinguished from the rest; That as the Rhone its hasty way does make (Not mingling waters) through Geneva's lake, So having here the different styles in view, You may compare the former with the new.

If we less rudely shall the knot untie, Soften the rigour of the tragedy,

Waller made an alteration of the Maid's Tragedy, to please the court,' as we learn from the Preface to the Second Part of his Poems. The alteration was designed, as he expresses it in the Prologue, to 'soften the rigour of the tragedy,' and the interpolations and substitutions, the better to distinguish them from the original, were written in rhyme. The experiment was, in every sense, a failure.

And yet preserve each person's character,
Then to the other this you may prefer.
'Tis left to you: the boxes, and the pit,
Are sovereign judges of this sort of wit.
In other things the knowing artist may
Judge better than the people; but a play,
(Made for delight, and for no other use)
If you approve it not, has no excuse.

EPILOGUE TO THE 'MAID'S TRAGEDY.'

SPOKEN BY THE KING.

HE fierce Melantius was content, you see,

THE

The king should live; be not more fierce than he; Too long indulgent to so rude a time,

When love was held so capital a crime,

That a crowned head could no compassion find,
But died-because the killer had been kind!
Nor is't less strange, such mighty wits as those
Should use a style in tragedy like prose.

Well-sounding verse, where princes tread the stage,
Should speak their virtue, or describe their rage.
By the loud trumpet, which our courage aids,
We learn that sound, as well as sense, persuades;
And verses are the potent charms we use,
Heroic thoughts and virtue to infuse.

When next we act this tragedy again,
Unless you like the change, we shall be slain.
The innocent Aspasia's life or death,
Amintor's too, depends upon your breath.
Excess of love was heretofore the cause;
Now if we die, 'tis want of your applause.

EPILOGUE TO THE 'MAID'S TRAGEDY.'

DESIGNED UPON THE FIRST ALTERATION OF THE PLAY, WHEN THE
KING ONLY WAS LEFT ALIVE.*

ASPASIA bleeding on the stage does lie,
To show you still 'tis the Maid's Tragedy.
The fierce Melantius was content, you see,
The king should live; be not more fierce than he;
Too long indulgent to so rude a time,
When love was held so capital a crime,
That a crowned head could no compassion find,
But died-because the killer had been kind!
This better natured poet had reprieved
Gentle Amintor too, had he believed
The fairer sex his pardon could approve,
Who to ambition sacrificed his love.
Aspasia he has spared; but for her wound
(Neglected love!) there could no salve be found.
When next we act this tragedy again,
Unless you like the change, I must be slain.
Excess of love was heretofore the cause;
Now if I die, 'tis want of your applause.

*This Epilogue, which is nearly the same as the former, was written for the alterations as they were originally contemplated; but Waller, having seen occasion to change his plan, adapted the Epilogue accordingly.