_I Wish, with all my Heart, the Stage and Town Would both agree to cry all Prologues down; That we, no more oblig'd to say or sing, Might drop this useless necessary Thing: No more with aukward Strut, before the Curtain, Chaunt out some Rhimes--there's neither good nor hurt in._ _What is this Stuff the Poets make us deal in, But some old worn-out Jokes of their Retailing: From Sages of our own, or former Times, Transvers'd from Prose, perhaps transpros'd from Rhimes._…
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