A PROLOGUE To a New PLAY, called The royalist.  
HOw! the House full! and at a Royal Play!  
That's strange! I never hoped to see this day.  
But sure this must some change of Fate foretell;  
For th' Pit (methinks) looks like a Commonweal;  
Where Monarch Wit's baffled by every Drudge,  
And each pert Railing Brimigham's a Judge.  
But know, ye Critics of unequal Pride,  
The Dice now give kind chances on our side;  
Tories are upmost, and the Whigs defied.  
Your Factious Juries and Associations  
Must never think to ruin twice Three Nations;  
No, there's one 'bove you has too long had Patience.  
Changing of sides is now not counted strange;  
Some for Religion, some for Faction change:  
And (lest Examples should be too remote,)  
A Reverend Clergyman of famous note  
Hath changed his Cassock for a Campaign-Coat;  
Amongst the Saints doth most devoutly Stickle,  
And holy Bagpipe squeals in Conventicle.  
Another sort there are that roar and rant;  
Are Loyal; but all other Virtue's want:  
Ask their Religion, they cry, What a Pox,  
Damn me ye Dog, I'm staunch, I'm Orthodox.  
These are as bad as t'other every way,  
And much unlike my part I act to day;  
A royalist by Nature, not by Art,  
That loves his Prince and Country at his Heart;  
Addresses loves, to all Mankind is civil;  
But hates Petitions as he hates the Devil;  
Perfect in Honour, constant to his Friend;  
And only hath one fault, is wondrous kind.  
Yet who here would refuse a kind Intrigue;  
Faith none who does it is a Rigling Whig.  
This is his Character, and is't not pity  
But such as he bore Office in the City?  
How would all honest Hearts their Fates esteem,  
Were all our Common-Council-men like him?  
How glad to be preserved from Factious Furies,  
If such as he was Foreman of the Juries.  
This point once gained, Sedition would want force,  
And equal Justice take its proper Course;  
Hang up all those for an Examples show,  
That have deserved it Twenty years ago.   

The Epilogue,  spoken by Mr. Underhill. 
WHat in my face could this strange Scribbler see,  
(ud's Heart) to make an Evidence of me?  
That never could agree with Ignoramus,  
But for a Tender Conscience have been famous.  
For who of these among you here that have  
Not in your Rambles heard of Tory Cave;  
Who roars in Coffee-house, and wastes his Wealth,  
Toping the Gentleman in Scotland's Health.  
This part should have been given some hardy Fool,  
That had more sense for Interest than his Soul.  
I never had the knack of Truth-denying,  
Loving Sedition, Loyalty defying;  
Nor could I take Ten Pound a week for Lying.  
But since 'tis so, I must entreat the pity  
Of you our (never failing) Friends i'th' City.  
For though I was not e'er brought up to th' Trade,  
Like Setting-Dog I may with Art be made.  
In time such wholesome Documents receive:  
ud's Zooks, who knows but I may stand for Shrieve?  
And faith, that thought hath raised my ambition:  
Well, Sirs, give me but Houseroom, and Provision;  
Cry up the Play, and always let me find  
My Benefactors Bountiful and Kind;  
Then, if you want a Swinger at a word,  
Zounds I'll swear for you through a two-inch-Board.  
FINIS.