Than we with our poetic train come down,
For refuge hither, from th' infected Town.
Heav'n for our sins this summer has thought fit
To visit us with all the plagues of wit.
A French troop first swept all thiugs in its way,
But those hot Monsieurs were too quick to stay:
Yet, to our cost, in that short time we find
They left their itch of novelty behind.
Th' Italian Merry Andrews took their place,
And quite debauch'd the stage with lewd grimace.
Instead of wit and humours, your delight
Was there to see two hobby horses fight:
Stout Scaramoucha with rush lance rode in,
And ran a tilt at Centaur Arlequin.
For love you heard how am'rous asses bray'd,
And cats in gutters gave their serenade.
Nature was out of count'nance, and each day
Some new-born monster shewn you for a play.
But when all fail'd to strike the stage quite dumb,
Those wicked engines call'd Machines are come.
Thunder and lightning now for wit are play'd,
And shortly scenes in Lapland will be laid:
Art-magic is for poetry profest ;
And cats and dogs, and each obscener beast,
To which Egyptian dotards once did bow,
Upon our English stage are worshipp'd now.
Witchcraft reigns there, and raises to renown
Macbeth, and Simon Magus of the Town;
The court of Constantine was full of glory,
And ev'ry Trimmer turn'd addressing Tory.
They follow'd him in herds as they were mad:
When Clause was king, then all the world was glad.
Whigs kept the places they possess'd before,
And most were in a way of getting more;
Which was as much as saying, Gentlemen,
Here's pow'r and money to be rogues agen.
Indeed there were a sort of peaking tools,
Some call them modest, but I call them fools,
Men much more loyal, tho' not half so loud;
But these poor devils were cast behind the crowd:
For bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense,
But good men starve for want of impudence.
Besides all these there were a sort of wights,
(I think my author calls them Tekelites)
Such hearty rogues against the king and laws,
They favour'd e'en a foreign rebel's cause: [aw'd,
When their own damn'd design was quash'd and
At least they gave it their good word abroad:
As many a man who, for a quiet life,
Breeds out his bastard not to noise his wife.
Thus o'er their darling plot these trimmers cry,
And though they cannot keep it in their eye, 30
They bind it 'prentice to Count Tekely.
They believe not the last plot; may I be curst
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 smells the stink,
And now it comes into my head, I'll tell
Why these damn'dTrimmers lov'd the Turks so well.
The original Trimmer, tho' 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 ev'ry true believer;
And, which was more than mortal man e'er tasted,
One pleasure that for threescore twelvemonths lasted:
To turn for this may surely be forgiv'n;
Who'd not be circumcis'd for such a heav'n?
EPILOGUE to the King and Queen, upon the union of the two companies, 1686.
NEw ministers, when first they get in place,
Must have a care to please; and that's our case.
Some laws for public welfare we design,
If you, the pow'r supreme, will please to join.
There are a sort of prattlers in the pit,
Who either have or who pretend to wit.
These noisy Sirs so loud their parts rehearse,
That oft the play is silenc'd by the farce.
Let such be dumb, this penalty to shun,
Each to be thought my lady's eldest son.
The court of Constantine was full of glory,
And ev'ry Trimmer turn'd addressing Tory.
They follow'd him in herds as they were mad :
When Clause was king, then all the world was glad.
Whigs kept the places they possess'd before,
And most were in a way of getting more;
Which was as much as saying, Gentlemen,
Here's pow'r and money to be rogues agen.
Indeed there were a sort of peaking tools,
Some call them modest, but I call them fools,
Men much more loyal, tho' not half so loud;
But these poor devils were cast behind the crowd:
For bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense,
But good men starve for want of impudence.
Besides all these there were a sort of wights,
(I think my author calls them Tekelites)
Such hearty rogues against the king and laws,
They favour'd e'en a foreign rebel's cause: [aw'd,
When their own damn'd design was quash'd and
At least they gave it their good word abroad:
As many a man who, for a quiet life,
Breeds out his bastard not to noise his wife.
Thus o'er their darling plot these trimmers cry,
And though they cannot keep it in their eye, 30
They bind it 'prentice to Count Tekely.
They believe not the last plot; may I be curst
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 smells the stink,
And now it comes into my head, I'll tell
Why these damn'dTrimmers lov'd the Turks so well.
The origʼnal Trimmer, tho' 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 ev'ry true believer;
And, which was more than mortal man e'er tasted,
One pleasure that for threescore twelvemonths lasted:
To turn for this may surely be forgiv'n;
Who'd not be circumcis'd for such a heav'n?
EPILOGUE to the King and Queen, upon the union of the two companies, 1686..
NEw ministers, when first they get in place,
Must have a care to please; and that's our case.
Some laws for public welfare we design,
If you, the pow'r supreme, will please to join.
There are a sort of prattlers in the pit,
Who either have or who pretend to wit.
These noisy Sirs so loud their parts rehearse,
That oft the play is silenc'd by the farce.
Let such be dumb, this penalty to shun,
Each to be thought my lady's eldest son.
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