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Then put an end to Civil Wars for shame,
Let each Knight Errant who has wrong'd a Dame,
Throw down his Ren, and give her as he can,
The Satisfaction of a Gentleman.
Prologue to the Princess of CLEVES. Written by Mr. DRYDEN.
). I long to whisper something in your Ear : A Secret, which does much my Mind perplex, There's Treason in the Play against our Şex. A Man that's false to Love, that yows and cheats, And kisses every living thing he meets! A Rogue in Mode, I dare not speak too broad, One that does something to the very Bawd. Out on him, Traytor, for a filthy Beast, Nay, and he's like the pack of all the rest ; None of 'em stick 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 swear, So we compound for half the Sin we owe, But Men are dipt for Soul and Body-too. And when found out excuse themselves, Pox cant'em, With Latin stuff, perjuria ridet Amantum. I'm not Book learn’d, to know that word in vogue, But I suspect 'tis Latin for a Rogue. I'm sure I never heard that Şcritch-owl hollow'd In my poor Ears, but Separation follow.d. How can such perjur'd Villains e'er be saved, Achitophel's not half so false to David. With Vows and soft Expressions to allure, They ftand, like Foremen of a Shop, demure : No sooner out of light, but they are gadding, And for the next new Face ride our a padding
Yet, by their Favour when they have been killing,
We can perceive the ready Mony missing:
Well! we may rail, but 'tis as good e'en wink,
Something we find, and something they will sink.
But since they're at renouncing, 'cis our Parts,
To trump their Diamonds and they trump our Hearts.
Epilogue to the Princess of Cleves.
Written by Mr. Dryden.
Qualm of Conscience brings me back again
We Women love like Cats, that hide their Joys,
By growling, squaling, and a hideous Noise.
I rail'd at wild young Sparks, but without lying,
Never was Man worse thought on for high-fying
The Prodigal of Love gives each her Part,
And [quandring shows, at least, a noble Heart.
Pve heard of Men, who in some lewd Lampoon,
Have hir'd a Friend, to make their Valour known.
That Accusation straight, this question brings,
What is the Man that does such naughty things :
The Spaniel Lover, like a sneaking Fop,
Lies at our Feet : He's scarce worth taking up.
'Tis true, such Hero's in a Play go far,
But Chamber Practice is not like the Bar.
When Men such vile, such feint Petitions make,
We fear to give, because they fear to take ;
Since Modesty's the Virtue of our kind,
Pray let it be to our own Sex confin'd.
When Men usurp it from the Female Nation,
'Tis but a Work of Supererogation ---
We show'd a Princess in the Play. 'Tis true,
Who gave her. Cefar more than all his due.
Told her own Faults; but I shou'd much abhor,
To chuse a Husband for my Confessor,
You see 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 confess'd as much to him she lov’d.
True Presbyterian-Wives, the means wou'd try,
But damn'd Confessing is flat Popery.
The FABLE of the Por 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, sink...g and distress'd By his own Weight, and the fierce Waves oppressid, slily bespoke the lighter Vessel's aid; And to the Earthen Pitcher friendly said, Come, Brother, why should we divided lose The Strength of Union, and our selves expose To the Insults of this poor paltry Stream, Which with United Forces we can stem? 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 underfood, And made this Answer ; 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 ine, I equally am loft ; And fear inore Mischief from your hardned side, 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 Idyl
lium of Theocritus imitated. By W. Bowles, Fellove of Kings Coll. Cambr.
H, how does my dear Æschines! Oh how!
Cynisca, Friend, has shown the Fiend confeft,
And Peace and Joy are banishd from my Breast.
TH YONIC V S.
Hence chis wild Look, and this distracted Air,
Staring your Eyes, your Face o'ergrown with Hair.
Just such a Rosie-Crucian here arriv’d,
Some new Enthusiast sure, or Flood reviy'd ;
With such a Mien he came, with such a Grace,
So long his Beard, so dry, so pale his Face.
AS CHIN E S.
You, Sir, are merry; but alas ! I find
No Cure, no Ease, to my diftemper'd Mind.
I rave, am by a thousand Furies tost,
And call in vain my Reason in my Palliou loft.
I always knew you jealous and severe ;
But does Cynisia's Falfhood plain appear?
AS CHIN E S.
'Twas my ill fate, or chance, fome Friends to treat
With richest Wines, the Board was crown'd wick
choicest Meat ;
But fair Cynisca most adorn'd the Feast,
In all the Charms of Art and Nature dreít.
Cynisca all our ravish'd Senses 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,
Now Healths we drank, and as the Glasies came,
(Such was the Law) euch did his Mistress name:
Charming Cynisia too at last was prest
To name the Lover in her Favour bieft.
A Woman, sure, se hop'd might be excus'd!
The more they urg'd her, she the more refus’d.
Refus’d, oh Friend, and I her Lover by!
Guess if my Rage, with Wine enfian'd, grew high.
Silent the lat, and with her Eyes deny'd ;
Lycus is handsom, tall, and young, they cry'd!
When Lycus Name but touch'd her guilty Soul,
How down her Cheeks the liquid Globes did roul!
Confus'd her Look, while Shame and Guilt apace
Shisted the whole Complexion of her Face.
Gods! with what rage was my rack'd Soul surpriz'd!
My Curse, ny Ruin, am I then despis’d:
Ingrateful and inhuman thou! begone,
Go hug the Man whose Ab'ence you bemoan;
No more will i, deluded by your Charms,
Cherish an absent Miftress in my Arms.
Swiftly, as Swallows to their Neft, The Aed,
When unfetch'd Young lye gaping, and unfed.
Swiftly the fied, with my Embraces cloy'd ;
Lycus the long had loy’d, and long enjoy’d.
A publick Jest, and known to all alas!
(Thc Cuckold last 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 forgat.
Now, undisturb’d, unrival'd Lycus reigns,
Enjoys his Conquest, and derides my Pains,
Two Months. are past, since un regarded I
In a deserted Bed, and hopeless lye.
Long with the mighty Pain opprest, I ftrove;
But ah! what Remedy for injur'd Love!
In vain I struggle with the fierce Disease,
The fatal Poison does my Vitals seize.