Eufebius, for you know I read Greek authors,
Reports, that, after all thefe plots and flaughters,
The court of Conftantine was full of glory,
And every Trimmer turn'd addreffing Tory.
They follow'd him in herds as they were mad :
When Claufe was/king, then all the world was glad.
Whigs kept the places they pofleft before,
And most were in a way of getting more;
Which was as much as faying, Gentlemen,
Here's power and money to be rogues again.
Indeed, there were a fort of peaking tools,
Some call them modeft, but I call them fools,
Men much more loyal, though not half so loud;
But thefe poor devils were caft behind the croud.
For bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense,
But good men ftarve for want of impudence.
Befides all thefe, there were a fort of wights,
I think my author calls them Tekelites,
Such hearty rogues against the king and laws,
They favour'd ev'n a foreign rebel's cause.
When their own damn'd defign was quafh'd and aw'd,
At least, they gave it their good word abroad.
As many a man, who, for a quiet life,
Breeds out his baftard, not to noise his wife;
Thus o'er their darling plot thefe Trimmers
And though they cannot keep it in their eye,
They bind it prentice to Count Tekely.
They believe not the laft plot; may I be curft,
If I believe they e'er believ`d the first.
No wonder their own plot no plot they think;
The man, that makes it, never finells the ftink.
And now it comes into my head, I'll tell
Why thefe damn'd Trimmers lov'd the Turks fo well.
Th' original Trimmer, though a friend to no man,
Yet in his heart ador'd a pretty woman;
He knew that Mahomet laid up for ever
Kind black-ey'd rogues, for every true believer;
And, which was more than mortal man e'er tafted,
One pleasure that for threescore twelvemonths lafted;
To turn for this, may furely be forgiven:
Who'd not be circumcis'd for fuch a heaven?
PROLOGUE to the DISAPPOINTMENT:
Or, The MOTHER in FASHION.
[By Mr. SOUTHERN E, 1684.]
Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON.
HOW comes it, gentlemen, that now a-days,
When all of you fo fhrewdly judge of plays,
Our poets tax you ftill with want of fenfe?
All prologues treat you at your own expence.
Sharp citizens a wiser way can go;
They make you fools, but never call you so.
They, in good-manners, feldom make a flip,
But treat a common whore with ladyship :
But here each faucy wit at random writes,
And ufes ladies as he ufes knights.
S 3
Our author, young and grateful in his nature,
Vows, that from him no nymph deferves a fatire
Nor will he ever draw-I mean his rhyme-
Against the fweet partaker of his crime.
Nor is he yet fo bold an undertaker,
To call men fools; 'tis railing at their Maker.
Befides, he fears to split upon that shelf;
He's young enough to be a fop himself :
And, if his praife can bring you all a-bed,
He fwears fuch hopeful youth no nation ever bred.
Your nurses, we prefume, in fuch a case,
Your father chofe, because he lik'd the face;
And, often, they fupply'd your mother's place.
The dry nurfe was your mother's ancient maid,
Who knew fome former flip the ne'er betray'd.
Betwixt them both, for milk and fugar-candy,
Your fucking-bottles were well ftor'd with brandy.
Your father, to initiate your difcourfe,
Meant to have taught you first to swear and curse,
But was prevented by each careful nurfe.
For, leaving dad and mam, as names too common,
They taught you certain parts of man and woman.
I pafs your schools; for there when first you came,
You would be fure to learn the Latin name.
In colleges you fcorn'd the art of thinking,
But learn'd all moods and figures of good drinking:
Thence come to town, you practise play, to know
The virtues of the high dice, and the low.
Each thinks himself a sharper moft profound:
He cheats by pence; is cheated by the pound.
With these perfections, and what else he gleans,
The fpark fets up for love behind our scenes;
Hot in pursuit of princeffes and queens.
There, if they know their man, with cunning carriage,
Twenty to one but it concludes in marriage.
He hires fome homely room, love's fruits to gather,
And garret-high rebels against his father:
Brings her in triumph, with her portion, down,
A toilet, dreffing-box, and half a crown.
Some marry firft, and then they fall to fcowering,
Which is, refining marriage into whoring.
Our women batten well on their good-nature;
All they can rap and rend for the dear creature.
But while abroad fo liberal the dolt is,
Poor fpoufe at home as ragged as a colt is.
Last, some there are, who take their first degrees
Of lewdness in our middle galleries.
The doughty bullies enter bloody drunk,
Invade and grubble one another's punk :
They caterwaul, and make a dismal rout,
Call fons of whores, and ftrike, but ne'er lug out:
Thus while for paltry punk they roar and stickle,
They make it bawdier than a conventicle.
PROLOGUE to the KING and QUEEN, upon the Union of the Two Companies in 1686.
INCE faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of fashion,
Their penny-fcribes take care t' inform the nation, How well men thrive in this or that plantation :
How Pensylvania's air agrees with Quakers,
And Carolina's with Affociators :
Both ev'n too good for madmen and for traitors.
Truth is, our land with faints is fo run o'er,
And every age produces fuch a store,
That now there's need of two New-Englands more.
What's this, you'll fay, to us and our vocation?
Only thus much, that we have left our station,
And made this theatre our new plantation.
The factious natives never could agree;
But aiming, as they call'd it, to be free,
Thofe play-house Whigs fet up for property.
Some fay, they no obedience paid of late ;
But would new fears and jealoufies create;
Till topfy-turvy they had turn'd the state.
Plain fenfe, without the talent of foretelling,
Might guess 'twould end in downright knocks and quelling:
For feldom comes there better of rebelling.
|