The PROLOGUE.
You are welcome, welcome all to the New Inn;
Though the old House, we hope our Chear will win
Your Acceptation: we ha' the same Cook
Still, and the fat, who says, you sha' not look
Long for your Bill of Fare, but every Dish
Be serv'd in i' the time, and to your wish:
If any thing be set to a wrong taste,
'Tis not the Meat, there, but the Mouth's displac'd,
Remove but that sick Palate, all is well.
For this, the secure Dresser bad me tell,
Nothing more hurts just Meetings, than a Croud;
Or, when the Expectation's grown too loud:
That the nice Stomach would ha' this or that,
And being ask'd, or urg'd, it knows not what:
When sharp or sweet, have been too much a Feast,
And both out liv'd the Palate of the Guest.
Beware to bring such Appetites to the Stage,
They do confess a weak, sick, queasie Age;
And a shrew'd grudging too of Ignorance,
When Clothes and Faces 'bove the Men advance:
Hear for your Health, then, But at any hand,
Before you judge, vouchsafe to understand,
Concoct, digest: if then, it do not hit,
Some are in a Consumption of Wit,
Deep, he dares say, he will not think, that all --
For, Hecticks are not Epidemical.