Then put an end to Civil Wars for shame,

Let each Knight Errant who has wrong'd a Dame,
Throw down his Pen, and give her as he can,
The Satisfaction of a Gentleman.

Prologue to the Princess of CLEVES. Written by Mr. DRYDEN.

Ladies! (I hope there's none behind to hear,).

I long to whisper fomething in your Ear: A Secret, 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 fpeak too broad, One that does fomething to the very Bawd. Out on him, Traytor, for a filthy Beast, Nay, and he's like the pack of all the reft; None of 'em ftick at mark: They all deceive, Some few 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 tho' we lye, we're too well bred to fwear. So we compound for half the Sin we owe, But Men are dipt for Soul and Body too.

And when found out excufe themselves, Pox cant 'em, With Latin ftuff, perjuria ridet Amantum.

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 Scritch-owl hollow'd
In my poor Ears, but Separation follow'd.
How can fuch perjur'd Villains e'er be faved,
Achitophel's not half fo falfe to David.
With Vows and foft Expreffions to allure,
They ftand, like Foremen of a Shop, 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 Mony missing:
Well! we may rail, but 'tis as good e'en wink,
Something we find, and fomething they will fink.
But fince they're at renouncing, 'tis our Parts,
To trump their Diamonds,and they trump our Hearts.

Epilogue to the Princess of CLEVES. Written by Mr. Dryden.

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, fqualing, and a hideous Noise. I rail'd at wild young Sparks, but without lying, Never was Man worse thought on for high-flying The Prodigal of Love gives each her Part, And fquandring fhows, at least, 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 question 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 Hero's in a Play go far, But Chamber Practice is not like the Bar. When Men fuch vile, fuch feint 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 Sex confin'd. When Men ufurp it from the Female Nation, 'Tis but a Work of Supererogation. We fhow'd a Princefs in the Play. 'Tis true, Who gave her Cafar more than all his due. Told her own Faults; but I fhou'd much abhor, To chufe a Husband for my Confeffor.

You fee what Fate follow'd the Saint-like Fool,
For telling Tales from out the Nuptial School.
Our Play a merry Comedy had prov'd,
Had the confefs'd as much to him fhe lov'd.
True Presbyterian-Wives, the means wou'd try,
But damn'd Confeffing is flat Popery.

The FABLE of the POT and KETTLE, as it was told by Colonel Titus the Night before he Kiss'd the King's Hand.

S down the Torrent of an angry Flood,

The heavy Caldron, fink...g and diftrefs'd
By his own Weight, and the fierce Waves opprefs'd,
Slily bespoke the lighter Veffel's aid;
And to the Earthen Pitcher friendly said,
Come, Brother, why fhould we divided lofe
The Strength of Union, and our selves expose
To the Infults of this poor paltry Stream,
Which with United Forces we can ftem?
Tho' different heretofore have been our Parts,
The common Danger reconciles our Hearts;
Here, lend me thy kind Arm to break the Flood.
The Pitcher this New Friendship understood,
And made this Anfwer; Tho' I wish for Ease
And Safety, this Alliance does not please;
Such different Natures never will agree,
Your Conftitution is too rough for me;
If by the Waves I against you am` toft,
Of you to me, I equally am loft;

And fear more Mischief from your hardned fide,
Than from the Shores, the Billows, or the Tide:
I calmer Days, and ebbing Waves attend,
Rather than buoy you up, and ferve your end,
To perish by the Rigor of my Friend,

CYNISCA: Or, the Fourteenth Idyllium of Theocritus imitated.

By W. Bowles, Fellow of Kings-Coll. Cambr.

THYONICUS,

ESCHINES.

H, how does my dear Æfchines! Oh how!

care, my on thy Brow.

ASCHINES.

Cynifca, Friend, has shown the Fiend confeft, And Peace and Joy are banifh'd from my Breaft. THTONIC V S.

Hence this wild Look, and this distracted Air, Staring your Eyes, your Face o'ergrown with Hair. Juft fuch a Rofie-Crucian here arriv'd,

Some new Enthufiaft fure, or Flood reviv'd;
With fuch a Mien he came, with fuch a Grace,
So long his Beard, fo dry, fo pale his Face.
ASCHINES.

You, Sir, are merry; but alas! I find
No Cure, no Eafe, to my diftemper'd Mind.
I rave, am by a thousand Furies toft,
And call in vain my Reason in my Paffion loft.
THTONI CU S.

I always knew you jealous and fevere;
But does Cynifca's Falfhood plain appear?
ASCHINES.

'Twas my ill fate, or chance, fome Friends to treat With richest Wines, the Board was crown'd with choiceft Meat;

But fair Cynifca moft adorn'd the Feaft,
In all the Charms of Art and Nature dreit.
Cynifca all our ravish'd Senfes fed,

We gaz'd, and we ador'd the lovely Maid:
With Wine and Beauty all our Hearts were fir'd,
And fair Cynifca ftill new Joys inspir'd,

VOL. II.

Now Healths we drank, and as the Glaffes came,
(Such was the Law) each did his Mistress name
Charming Cynifia too at laft was prest
To name the Lover in her Favour bleft.
A Woman, fure, the hop'd might be excus'd!
The more they urg'd her, the the more refus'd.
Refus'd, oh Friend, and I her Lover by!
Guess if my Rage, with Wine enflam'd, grew high.
Silent the fat, and with her Eyes deny'd;

Lycus is handfom, tall, and young, they cry'd'
When Lycus Name but touch'd her guilty Soul,
How down her Checks the liquid Globes did roul!
Confus'd her Look, while Shame and Guilt apace
Shifted the whole Complexion of her Face.
Gods! with what rage was my rack'd Soul furpriz'd!
My Curse, my Ruin, am I then despis'd?
Ingrateful and inhuman thou! begone,

Go hug the Man whofe Abfence you bemoan:
No more will I, deluded by your Charms,
Cherish an abfent Mistress in my Arms.
Swiftly, as Swallows to their Neft, fhe fled,
When unfletch'd Young lye gaping, and unfed.
Swiftly the fled, with my Embraces cloy'd;
Lycus the long had lov'd, and long enjoy'd.
A publick Jeft, and known to all alas!
(The Cuckold laft perceives his own Disgrace)
Yet once a Friend accus'd the guilty Maid,
And to my Ears th' unheard of News convey'd:
For I, a much abus'd, deluded Sot,

The matter ne'er examin'd, or forgot.
Now, undisturb'd, unrival'd Lycus reigns,
Enjoys his Conqueft, and derides my Pains,
Two Months are paft, fince unregarded I
In a deferted Bed, and hopelefs lye.
Long with the mighty Pain oppreft, I ftrove;
But ah! what Remedy for injur'd Love!
In vain I ftruggle with the fierce Disease,
The fatal Poifon does my Vitals feize.