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When men will, needlefsly, their freedom barter
For lawless power, fometimes they catch a Tartar;
There's a damn'd word that rhymes to this, call'd
Charter.

But, fince the victory with us remains,

You fhall be call'd to twelve in all our gains;
If you'll not think us faucy for our pains.

Old men fhall have good old plays to delight them :
And
you, fair ladies and gallants, that slight them,
We'll treat with good new plays; if our new wits can
write them.

We'll take no blundering verse, no fustian tumor,
No dribbling love, from this or that prefumer;
No dull fat fool shammi'd on the stage for humour.

For, faith, fome of them fuch vile stuff have made,
As none but fools or fairies ever play'd;
But 'twas, as fhopmen fay, to force a trade.

We've given you Tragedies, all fenfe defying,
And finging men, in woful metre dying;
This 'tis when heavy lubbers will be flying.

All these difafters we well hope to weather;
We bring you none of our old lumber hither :
Whig peets and Whig sheriffs may hang together.

XXVII. EPILOGUE

XXVII.

N

EPILOGUE on the fame Occafion.

EW ministers, when first they get in place,
Must have a care to please; and that's our cafe :

Some laws for public welfare we defign,

If

you, the power fupreme, will please to join : There are a fort of prattlers in the pit,

Who either have, or who pretend to wit:
Thefe noify firs fo loud their parts rehearse,
That oft the play is filenc'd by the farce.
Let fuch be dumb, this penalty to shun,
Each to be thought my lady's eldest son.

But ftay methinks fome vizard mask I fee,

:

Caft out her lure from the mid gallery :

About her all the fluttering sparks are rang'd;
The noise continues though the scene is chang'd:
Now growling, fputtering, wauling, fuch a clutter,
'Tis juft like pufs defendant in a gutter:

Fine love, no doubt; but ere two days are o'er ye,
The furgeon will be told a woful story.

Let vizard mask her naked face expofe,

On pain of being thought to want a nofe :
Then for your lacqueys, and your train befide,
By whate'er name or title dignify'd,
They roar fo loud, you'd think behind the stairs
Tom Dove, and all the brotherhood of bears:
They 're grown a nufance, beyond all disasters;
We've none fo great but their unpaying mafters.

We

We beg you, firs, to beg your men, that they
Would pleafe to give you leave to hear the play.
Next in the play-houfe fpare your precious lives;
Think, like good chriftians, on your bearns and wives :
Think on your fouls; but by your lugging forth,
It seems you know how little they are worth.
If none of these will move the warlike mind,
Think on the helpless whore you leave behind.
We beg you, laft, our fcene-room to forbear,
And leave our goods and chattels to our care.
Alas! our women are but washy toys,
And wholly taken up in stage employs :
Poor willing tits they are: but yet I doubt
This double duty foon will wear them out.
Then you are watch'd befides with jealous care;
What if my lady's page fhould find you there?
My lady knows t' a tittle what there 's in ye;
No paffing your gilt fhilling for a guinea.
Thus, gentlemen, we have fumm'd up in fhort
Our grievances, from country, town, and court:
Which humbly we fubmit to your good pleasure ;
But firft vote money, then redress at leifure.

XXVIII.

PROLOGUE to the PRINCESS of CLEVES. [By Mr. N. LE E, 1689.]

LADIES! (I hope there's none behind to hear) I long to whisper fomething in your ear :

A fecret

A fecret, which does much my mind perplex:
There's treafon in the play against our sex.
A man that's falfe to love, that vows and cheats,
And kiffes every living thing he meets.

A rogue in mode, I dare not speak too broad,
One that does fomething to the very bawd.
Out on him, traitor, for a filthy beaft;
Nay, and he's like the pack of all the reft.
None of them stick at mark; they all deceive.
Some Jew has chang'd the text, I half believe;
There Adam cozen'd our poor grandame Eve.
To hide their faults, they rap out oaths, and tear:
Now, though we lye, we 're too well-bred to fwear.
So we compound for half the fin we owe,

But men are dipt for foul and body too;

And, when found out, excufe themfelves, pox cant them,
With Latin ftuff, "Perjuria ridet Amantûm."
I'm not book-learn'd, to know that word in vogue,

But I fufpect 'tis Latin for a rogue.

I'm fure, I never heard that feritch-owl hollow'd
In my poor ears, but feparation follow'd.
How can fuch perjur'd villains e'er be faved?
Achitophel's not half fo falfe to David.
With vows and soft expreffions to allure,
They ftand, like foremen of a fhop, demure:
No fooner out of fight, but they are gadding,
And for the next new face ride out a-padding.
Yet, by their favour, when they have been kiffing,
We can perceive the ready money miffing.

Well!

Well! we may rail; but 'tis as good ev'n wink;
Something we find, and fomething they will fink.
But fince they 're at renouncing, 'tis our parts,
To trump their diamonds, as they trump our hearts.

XXIX.

EPILOGUE to the fame.

A Qualm of confcience brings me back again,

To make amends to you befpatter'd men.
We women love like cats, that hide their joys,
By growling, fqualling, and a hideous noife.
I rail'd at wild young sparks; but, without lying,
Never was man worse thought on for high-flying.
The prodigal of love gives cach her part,
And fquandering fhows, at leaft, a noble heart.
I've heard of men, who, in fome lewd lampoon,
Have hir'd a friend, to make their valour known.
That accufation ftraight this queftion brings;
What is the man that does fuch naughty things?
The spaniel lover, like a fneaking fop,
Lies at our feet: he's fcarce worth taking up.
'Tis true, fuch heroes in a play go far;
But chamber-practice is not like the bar.
When men fuch vile, fuch faint, petitions make,,
We fear to give, because they fear to take;
Since modefty's the virtue of our kind,
Pray let it be to our own fex confin'd.
When men ufurp it from the female nation,
'Tis but a work of fupererogation-

We

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