Once more I bring the STEP-MOTHER before you, Which yet in silence I might never play; So did confusion crush it: which confusion Your prudence may allay, if it will deign To second our endeavors.--When I first Began to play this piece, the sturdy Boxers, (The dancers on the rope expected too,) Th' increasing crowds, the noise and women's clamor, Oblig'd me to retire before my time. I, upon this occasion, had recourse To my old way. I brought it on again. In the first act I please: meanwhile there spreads A rumor of the Gladiators: then The people flock together, riot, roar, And fight for places. I meanwhile _my_ place Could not maintain--To-day there's no disturbance; All's silence and attention; a clear stage: 'Tis yours to give these games their proper grace. Let not, oh let not the Dramatic Art Fall to a few! let your authority Assist and second mine! if I for gain Ne'er overrated my abilities, If I have made it still my only care To be obedient to your will, oh grant That he who hath committed his performance To my defense, and who hath thrown himself On your protection, be not giv'n to scorn, And foul derision of his envious foes! Admit this plea for my sake, and be silent; That other Poets may not fear to write, That I too may hereafter find it meet To play new pieces bought at my expense. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. _PHILOTIS, SYRA._ PHI. Now, by my troth, a woman of the town Scarce ever finds a faithful lover, Syra. This very Pamphilus, how many times He swore to Bacchis, swore so solemnly One could not but believe him, that he never Would, in her lifetime, marry. See! he's married. SYRA. I warn you, therefore, and most earnestly Conjure you, to have pity upon none. But plunder, fleece, and beggar ev'ry man That falls into your pow'r. PHI. What! spare none? SYRA. None. For know, there is not one of all your sparks But studies to cajole you with fine speeches, And have his will as cheaply as he can. Should not you, then, endeavor to fool them? PHI. But to treat all alike is wrong. SYRA. What! wrong? To be reveng'd upon your enemies? Or to snare those who spread their snares for you? --Alas! why have not I your youth and beauty, Or you my sentiments? SCENE II. _Enter PARMENO._ PAR. (_to SCRITUS within_). If our old gentleman Asks for me, tell him I'm this very moment Gone to the Port to seek for Pamphilus. D'ye understand my meaning, Scritus? If he asks, Tell him that; if he should not ask, say nothing; That this excuse may serve another time. (_Comes forward._ --But is not that Philotis? Whence comes she? Philotis, save you! PHI. Save you, Parmeno! SYRA. Save you, good Parmeno! PAR. And save you, Syra! --Tell me, Philotis, where have you been gadding? Taking your pleasure this long time? PHI. I've taken No pleasure, Parmeno, indeed. I went With a most brutal Captain hence to Corinth, There have I led a wretched life with him For two whole years.