The Prologue

Your Majesty is welcome to a Fair; Such place, such men, such language, and such ware, You must expect with these the zealous noise Of your land's Faction, scandalized at toys, As Babies, Hobbyhorses, Puppet-plays, And such like rage, whereof the petulant ways Yourself have known, and have been vexed with long. These for your sport, without particular wrong Or just complaint of any private man (Who of himself, or shall think well or can), The Maker doth present: and hopes tonight To give you, for a Fairing, true delight.