John Ford — The Broken Heart Prologue

Our scene is Sparta. He whose best of art hath drawn this piece calls it THE BROKEN HEART. The title lends no expectation here Of apish laughter, or of some lame jeer At place or persons; no pretended clause Of jests fit for a brothel courts applause From vulgar admiration: such low songs, Tun'd to unchaste ears, suit not modest tongues. The Virgin Sisters then deserv'd fresh bays When Innocence and Sweetness crown'd their lays; Then vices gasp'd for breath, whose whole commerce Was whipp'd to exile by unblushing verse. This law we keep in our presentment now, Not to take freedom more than we allow; What may be here thought fiction, when time's youth Wanted some riper years, was known a truth: In which, if words have cloth'd the subject right, You may partake a pity with delight.