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Let them be first to flatter in success;
in hand when he had three times more. Yet late repentance may, perhaps, be true ; Kings can forgive, if rebels can but sue : A tyrant's power in rigor is exprest; The father yearns in the true prince's breast. We grant, an o'ergrown Whig no grace can mend; But most are babes, that know not they offend. The croud, to restless motion still inclin'd, Are clouds, that tack according to the wind. Driven by their chiefs they storms of hailstones
pour; Then mourn, and soften to a silent shower. O welcome to this much-offending land, The prince that brings forgiveness in his hand ! Thus angels on glad messages appear: Their first falute commands us not to fear: Thus heaven, that could constrain us to obey, (With rev'rence if we might presume to say) Seems to relax the rights of sov'reign sway:
Permits to man the choice of good and ill,
Spoken to the King and the Queen at their
coming to the House.
HEN first the ark was landed on the shore,
no more i
When tops of hills the longing patriarch saw,
Tell me, ye powers, why shouldvain man pursue,
EPILOGUE for the King's House.
E act by fits and starts, like drowning men,
But just peep up, and then popdown again. Let those who call us wicked change their fense For never men liv'd more on Providence. Not lottery cavaliers are half so poor, Nor broken cits, nor a vacation whore. Not courts, nor courtiers living on the rents Of the three last ungiving parliaments : So wretched, that, if Pharaoh could divine, Hemight have spar'd his dream of seven lean kine, And chang'd his vision for the muses nine. The comet, that, they say, portends a dearth, Was but a vapor drawn from play-house earth: Pent there since our last fire, and, Lilly says, Foreshews our change of state, and thin third-days. 'Tis not our want of wit that keeps us poor ; For then the printer's press would suffer more. Their pamphleteers each day their venom spit; They thrive by treason, and we starve by wit. Confess the truth, which of
has not laid Four farthings out to buy the Hatfield maid ?
Or, which is duller yet, and more would spite us,
, he can, The fatisfaction of a gentleman.