A PROLOGUE, By way of SATYR, spoke before King CHARLES II. at New-Market.

EXpect no more th' old fawning Prologue way,
For the rash spleenful Poet writes to day
Something of you, Gallants, and not the Play.
Since freedom's given to each man here resorts,
He takes the priviledge t' abuse your sports;
Then thus begins, this Court's a Theatre,
And every Jockey is an Actor here,
From the dull Knight up to the bawling Peer.
New-Market is in general a Place,
Made of Crimp and Chouse of Cocks and Race,
Much Noise, much Nonsence, little Wit, or Grace,
Where Men all seem as Nature had design'd 'em,
To lose their Wits, then Gallop hard to find 'em:
Pray where's the Jest, for Faith I fain would know
In Yap, hoh, pugh, they start, they come, they go,
Chattering one's Teeth the while in Frost and Snow.
This and Fox-Hunting, th' Ancients did detest,
Where you Ride ten or twenty Miles at least,
Following the eager Chase in busie Swarms,
O'r Hedge and Ditch, ventring Legs, Necks & Arms
To kill, when at the Journeys end you come
A stinking Creature not worth bringing home:
This may be your Delight, but 'tis to me,
As th' Monsieur says, Diable de Plasire;
Yet one thing we must own, no Sport us found
In th' World like that, to try if Men are sound;
Therefore all you that carry tender Fleeces,
Shun this rude Sport, or gad you'll shake to pieces;
Another thing I know is worth your Care,
Claps are all fatal in New-Market Air:
This caus'd an Amorous Groom that knew the danger
Lately to Hang himself over a Manger,
And though a Vassal suffer'd this Disaster,
My Friends, 'tis Ominous to every Master.
Drink Brimmers then, Wine makes your bliss compleat,
Locket's a Loyal Fellow, let him Cheat,
Though stum'd Wine at three shillings be too dear,
Bacchus has safer Joys than Venus here,
Especially for you who to your cost
Kept Running Nags all the late bitter Frost.
Jesting's in fashion, 'tis the Modish way
And for Example, if you please you may
At the King's Dinner, hear 'em every day:
Jests shew a Wit, if Modestly they come,
But such as bluntly and too high presume,
Make Learning & good Manners quit the Room.
Yet you all laugh, and in as pleas'd a Fit,
As if your Panegyrick had been writ.
So in a Village have I seen a Clown
With broken Noddle lay the Cudgels down,
And Sneer to feel his bloody mangled Scull,
As if the Blow had dignify'd the Fool.
Iockeys, Joke on then, without fear or awe,
Cheat on, be Friends, do any thing but draw,
Crimp is no Treason, by New-Market Law.