What shall the Author do? It madness wereTo entreat a mercy from you, who are severeStern judges, and a pardon never give;For only merit with you makes things live.He leaves you therefore to yourselves, and mayYou gently 'quit, or else condemn, the play,As in an upright conscience you'll think fit:Your sentence is the life and death of wit.The Author yet hath one safe plea, that thoughA Middlesex jury on his play should go,They cannot find the murder wilful, since'Twas acted by command in his own defence.
What shall the Author do? It madness wereTo entreat a mercy from you, who are severeStern judges, and a pardon never give;For only merit with you makes things live.He leaves you therefore to yourselves, and mayYou gently 'quit, or else condemn, the play,As in an upright conscience you'll think fit:Your sentence is the life and death of wit.The Author yet hath one safe plea, that thoughA Middlesex jury on his play should go,They cannot find the murder wilful, since'Twas acted by command in his own defence.