A STRANGE play you are like to have, for know,
We use no drum, nor trumpet, nor dumb show;
No combat, marriage, not so much to-day
As song, dance, masque, to bombast out a play;
Yet these all good, and still in frequent use
With our best poets; nor is this excuse
Made by our author, as if want of skill
Caused this defect; it’s rather his self will.
Will you the reason know? There have so many
Been in that kind, that he desires not any
At this time in his scene, no help, no strain,
Or flash that’s borrowed from another’s brain;
Nor speaks he this that he would have you fear it,
He only tries if once bare lines will bear it:
Yet may’t afford, so please you silent sit,
Some mirth, some matter, and perhaps some wit.