ALMANZOR & ALMAHIDE, OR THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA: PART 2. PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN

THEY who write Ill, and they who ne'r durst write,
Turn Critiques out of meer Revenge and Spight:
A @3Play-house@1 gives 'em Fame; and up there starts,
From a mean Fifth-rate Wit, a Man of Parts.
(So Common Faces on the Stage appear;
We take'em in, and they turn Beauties here.)
Our Authour fears those Critiques as his Fate;
And those he Fears, by consequence, must Hate,
For they the Trafficque of all Wit invade,
As Scriv'ners draw away the Bankers Trade.
Howe're, the Poet's safe enough to day;
They cannot censure an unfinish'd Play.
But, as when Vizard Masque appears in Pit,
Straight every Man who thinks himself a Wit
Perks up; and, managing his Comb with grace,
With his white Wigg sets off his Nut-brown Face;
That done, bears up to th' prize, and views each Limb,
To know her by her Rigging and her Trimm;
Then, the whole noise of Fops to wagers go,
@3Pox on her,@1 't must be she; and @3Damm'ee@1 no:
Just so, I Prophecy, these Wits to-day
Will blindly guess at our imperfect Play:
With what new Plots our Second Part is fill'd,
Who must be kept alive, and who be kill'd.
And as those Vizard Masques maintain that Fashion,
To soothe and tickle sweet Imagination;
So, our dull Poet keeps you on with Masquing;
To make you think there's something worth your asking:
But when 'tis shown, that which does now delight you
Will prove a Dowdy, with a Face to fright you.

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