A Proletarian Prologue
(with apologies to William Shakespeare's Henry VIII)

CHORUS:

I come before you, audience, as guide
to what, perhaps, you’ll judge undignified.
As narrator, the context I’ll explain,
and what conclusions you should entertain.
In former times, we’d leave this up to you,
content that you could tell the false from true.
But time and tides have banished such conceits.
Now (s)he who earns is also (s)he who cheats.
Real Wealth and Power brazenly attest,
that more of both defines their lifelong quest,
where either age or gender guarantee
that all one wants one gets -- and that for free.
In fact, the Great each other feed and eat,
with hangings and beheadings such a treat
to witness. “Heretics” burnt at the stake
or drawn-and-quartered, all fine dramas make.
Both Theater and Art the Rich consume
while Cromwell’s corpse they happily exhume.
And if you doubt the subject of this tale;
if you need us to tell you wine from ale;
to dictate your opinion, we’ll proceed
to keep from you that knowledge you would need
to reach an independent state of mind.
We’ll see that you get nothing of that kind
For those who the admission can afford,
they see themselves onstage with shield and sword.
For those who own and read books not yet banned,
the “theater” sits resting in their hand,
and what the views of others may concern
mean only that it’s not for you to learn.
So, if you swallow all that we here say,
then I’ve a bridge to sell you – or this play.