THE Prologue and Epilogue TO THE City POLITICS.  

The PROLOGUE spoken by Mr. SMITH.  
GOOD Heaven be thanked, the frenzy of the Nation  
Gins to cure, and Wit to grow in fashion:  
Long the Two Theatres did proudly jar,  
And for chief sway, like two Republics War;  
When of the sudden a devouring Host  
Of dreadful Knights, (I say not of the Post)  
But strange tongue Warriors overrun the Town,  
And blew the Stage, almost the Kingdom down.  
And with the Stage the Poets must expire,  
For Bells will melt, if Steeples be on Fire;  

Then Coffeehouses Theatres were grown,  
Where Zealots acted in a furious tone  
Oliver 's Porter, Damning Babylon.   
But they more Mad; for he in his worst Fit  
Was ne'er so Mad as to talk TREASON yet.  
'Tis strange those Men should wish the POPE such evil,  
Who are so kind to the POPE's Friend, the DEVIL!  
They Drink, they Whore, and at there Rulers Rant,  
And all is well in a True PROTESTANT.  
These follies have the Nation long employed,  
And almost all the POET'S Trade destroyed.  
That they may justly seek Reprizals now,  
And Board those Pirates which brought them so low,  
Seize on that Ware by which some Men by stealth,  
Promote the Traffic of a Commonwealth:  
Beware some believe by Priests and Jesuits Spunn,  
They Wove the Cloth, fanatics put it on.  
But some will say, a POET mend the Age!  
In these high matters how dare they engage?  
Why, SIRS, a Poet's Reformation scorn;  
Since the Reformers now all Poets turn?  
And by their awkard jangling Rhimes proclaim,  
Like Bells rung backward, that the Towns on Flame?  
The City whigs such cursed Poets choose,  
For that alone they should their CHARTER lose.  
He is a wretched Coxcomb, who believes  
Muses, like JURIES, will be packed by SHERIFFS.  

But their ill Palate no fine dressing needs,  
All stuff that any Whiggish fancy breeds,  
They swallow down, and live like Ducks on Weeds.   
These things give all the Nations round delight,  
Sure at our Fools to laugh we have most right.  
Let's not our mirth to foreign Kingdoms send,  
But here the growth of our own Country spend.  
Heaven knows that sums the CAUSE has cost this Town!  
Here you may have it all for Half-a-Crown.   

The EPILOGUE spoken by Mr. LEE in the Character of Bartaline the Old Lawyer.  Enter a Gentleman to Bartaline. 1. Gent. 
SIR, I come to you from certain worthy Gentlemen the world is pleased to call whigs.  Bar. whigs? 
Sir, they are the Props and Pillars of the Nation.  1. Gent. 
Sir, There is a Poet has been so bold as to write a Play against 'em, in which several of 'em think themselves abused; now, Sir, they desire to know if they have not an Action of Slander against the Poet?  Bar. 
Ay, ay, Sir, he's a Rascal.  1. Gent. 
And may not have considerable damages?  Bar. 
Oh! very considerable—  1. Gent. 
Here are Two Pieces.  Bar. 
Two Pieces—? pretty indifferent damages— I believe they may have some Damages.  1. Gent. 
Here's one great person thinks himself much abused, and has sent you 20 Pieces.  Bar. 
Sir, he shall have great Damages, he shall trounce the Poet, a Rascal to abuse great persons.  1 Gent. 
He tell him.—  Ex. Enter a second Gent. 2. 
Sir, I come to you from a person that wants your Council, but he is a swinging Tory.  Bar. 
Well, he's ne'er the worse man, provided he has a swinging Purse.  2. 
Sir, he has writ a Play against Faction, and some whigs think themselves hit home in it, and they are bringing Actions of Slander against him to punish him.  Bar. 
Sir, if he has hit the whigs home he is a good Marksman, for now they are all upon the Wing.  2. 
Sir, he desires to know whether there lies an Action of Slander against him or no? and so, whether he had best compound the business in time, or go through with it?  Bar. 
Oh! let him go through with it.  2. 
And you will assist him?  Bar. 
Ay, ay, in private.  2. 
But he has no Money, he must Sue in Forma Pauperis.  Bar. 
Forma Pauperis? Oh! damned Rogue, does he abuse great men and has he no Money? Tell him I have considered it, and I won't defend a slanderous Rascal in abusing honest men.  2. 
You said you would help him through with it.  Bar. 
Ay, through the Pillory. A Rascal without Money abuse great men, and then Sue in Forma Pauperis— Come the Court is sat— I must Plead for the Plaintiff.  

YOU Learned, Reverend Judges in this place,  
I come to Plead here in a weighty Case;  
And I beseech you quickly make an end on't,  
The whigs are Plaintiffs, POET is Defendant.  
I'm for the Plaintiffs, they have Coin good store;  
Poets are in the wrong, because they're poor.  
And I ne'er mind a Cause but as I'm Feed,  
Like Quacks, we Cure no Man that will not bleed.  
whigs are my Clients; And, my Lords, I say,  
They have been scandalised in a damned Play,  
Which those good men for busy Fop's does jeer,  
Who vigilant for Church and State appear.  
What if such men should have no wit at all?  
Pray did not Geese once save the Capital?  
But say these honest men be in the wrong,  
Railing does to no private men belong;  
Boldly to Rail is one of the chief sprigs  
Of the Prerogative of Prince of whigs;  
TITUS the first, who did that Power attain,  
— I take it— Anno primo— of his Reign—  
From whigs, to whom by Custom it bolongs,  
whigs are all Freeholders of their Tongues,  
And Pens too.—  
I'll prove it out of Janeway 's Reports,  
And the Decrees of several Coffee-Courts.  
The POET his no title then to rail,  
Let him be seized, nor let Wit be his Bayl.  
Wit is a Tory, ne'er with us would join,  
Wit never help d the whigs to write one Line.  
IT has been accused, and in our Writings sought;  
But still the Coroner Non inventus brought.  
But Learned Judges, I leave all to you,  
If you're for TORIES, I will be so too.  
'Noint Witches, they will fly, though ne'er so old;  
I'll be as nimble too, 'noint me with Gold:  
I'll quickly to the Tory party skip,  
Greaze my Fist well, I'll let our Faction slip.    
FINIS.   

LONDON: Printed for Tho. Benskins in St. Bride's Church yard, 1683.