Yet Heaven, =Madam=, that has placed you on such Height, to be the more conspicuous Pattern of your Sex, had still left your Happiness imperfect, had it not given those inestimable Treasures of your Mind, and Person, to the only Prince on Earth that could have deserved them: A Crown received from Any, but the Happy Monarch's Hand, who invested you with This, which You now adorn, had only seemed the Work of _Fortune_: But _Thus_ bestow'd, the World acknowledges it the due Reward of =Providence=, for One You once so gloriously Refused. But as the Fame of such elevated Virtue has lifted the Plain Addresses of a whole Nation into Eloquence, the best repeated Eulogiums on that Theme are but Intrusions on your Majesty's greater Pleasure of secretly deserving them. I therefore beg leave, to subscribe myself, May it please Your =Majesty=, _Your Majesty's most Devoted_, _Most Obedient, and_ _Most Humble Servant_, =Colley Cibber=. TO THE READER. Having taken upon me in the prologue to this play, to give the auditors some short account of that part of it which Sir _John Vanbrugh_ left unfinished, and not thinking it adviseable in that place, to limit their judgment by so high a commendation as I thought it deserved; I have therefore, for the satisfaction of the curious, printed the whole of what he wrote, separately, under the single title he gave it of _A Journey to London_, without presuming to alter a line. Yet when I own, that in my last conversation with him, (which chiefly turned upon what he had done towards a comedy) he excused his not shewing it me, 'till he had reviewd it, confessing the scenes were yet undigested, too long, and irregular, particularly in the lower characters, I have but one excuse for publishing what he never designed should come into the world, as it then was, viz. I had no other way of taking those many faults to myself, which may be justly found in my presuming to finish it.