n the words, especially in our language; for there is no
maintaining the purity of English in short measures, where the rhime
returns so quick, and is so often female, or double rhime, which is
not natural to our tongue, because it consists too much of
monosyllables, and those, too, most commonly clogged with consonants;
for which reason I am often forced to coin new words, revive some that
are antiquated, and botch others; as if I had not served out my time
in poetry, but was bound apprentice to some doggrel rhimer, who makes
songs to tunes, and sings them for a livelihood. It is true, I have
not been often put to this drudgery; but where I have, the words will
sufficiently shew, that I was then a slave to the composition, which I
will never be again: it is my part to invent, and the musician's to
humour that invention. I may be counselled, and will always follow my
friend's advice where I find it reasonable, but will never part with
the power of the militia[4].

I am now to acquaint my reader with somewhat more particular
concerning this opera, after having begged his pardon for so long a
preface to so short a work. It was originally intended only for a
prologue to a play of the nature of "The Tempest;" which is a tragedy
mixed with opera, or a drama, written in blank verse, adorned with
scenes, machines, songs, and dances, so that the fable of it is all
spoken and acted by the best of the comedians; the other part of the
entertainment to be performed by the same singers and dancers who were
introduced in this present opera. It cannot properly be called a play,
because the action of it is supposed to be conducted sometimes by
supernatural means, or magic; nor an opera, because the story of it is
not sung.--But more of this at its proper time.--But some intervening
accidents having hitherto deferred the performance of the main design,
I proposed to the actors, to turn the intended Prologue into an
entertainment by itself, as you now see it, by adding two acts more to
what I had already written. The subject of it is wholly allegorical;
and the allegory itself so very obvious, that it will no sooner be
read than understood. It is divided, according to the plain and
natural method of every action, into three parts. For even Aristotle
himself is contented to say simply, that in all actions there is a
beginning, a middle, and an end; after which model all the Spanish
plays are built.

The descriptions of the scenes, and o