The date is out of such prolixity: We’ll have no Cupid hoodwink’d with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But, let them measure us by what they will, We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone.
THE PROLOGUE [Enter Chorus.
There are no more uses of "prologue" in the play.
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Prologue: When I was seventeen, my life changed forever.