Графични страници
PDF файл

When men will, needlessly, their freedom barter
For lawless power, sometimes they catch a Tartar;
There's a damn'd word that rhymes to this, call'd

But, fince the victory with us remains,
You shall be call’d to twelve in all our gains;
If you'll not think us faucy for our pains.
Old men shall have good old plays to delight them:
And you, fair ladies and gallants, that flight them,
We'll treat with good new plays; if our new wits can

write them. We'll take no blundering verse, no fustian tumor, No dribbling love, from this or that presumer; No dull fat fool shammid on the stage for humour. For, faith, some of them such vile stuff have made, As none but fools or fairies ever play'd; But 'twas, as shopmen say, to force a trade. We've given you Tragedies, all sense defying, And finging men, in woful metre dying; This 'tis when heavy lubbers will be flying. All these disasters we well hope to weather; We bring you none of our old lumber hither: Whig poets and Whig sheriffs may hang together,


EPILOGUE ON THE SAME OCCASION. NEW minifters, when firft 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 power supreme, will please to join: There are a fort of prattlers in the pit, Who either have, or who pretend to wit: "These noisy firs 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. But stay: methinks some vizard makk I see, Caft out her lure from the mid gallery: About her all the futtering sparks are rang'd; The noise continues though the scene is chang'd: Now growling, sputtering, wauling, such a clutter, "Tis just like puss defendant in a gutter: Fine love, no doubt; but ere two days are o'er ye, The surgeon will be told a woful story, Let vizard mask her naked face expose, On pain of being thought to want a nose: Then for your lacqueys, and your train befide, By whate'er name or title dignify'd, They roar so loud, you'd think behind the stairs Tom Dove, and all the brotherhood of bears: They ’re grown a nuisance, beyond all disasters ; We've none so great but their unpaying masters.


We beg you, firs, to beg your men, that they
Would please to give you leave to hear the play.
Next in the play-house spare your precious lives;
Think, like good christians, on your bearns and wives:
Think on your souls; but by your lugging forth,
It seems you know how little they are worth.
If none of these will move the warlike mind,
Think on the helpless whore you leave behind.
We beg you, laft, our scene-room to forbear,
And leave our goods and chattels to our care.
Alas! our women are but washy toys,
And wholly taken up in stage employs:
Poor willing tits they are: but yet I doubt
This double duty foon will wear them out.
Then you are watch'd besides with jealous care;
What if


lady's page should find you there?
My lady knows t' a tittle what there's in ye;
No passing your gilt shilling for a guinea.
Thus, gentlemen, we have summ'd up in short
Our grievances, from country, town, and court:
Which humbly we submit to your good pleasure;
But first vote money, then redress at leisure.


[By Mr. N. Lee, 1689.]


LADIES! (I hope there's none behind to heary

: A secret, which does much my mind perplex: There's treason in the play against our sex,

A man

[ocr errors]

A manthat's false to love, that vows 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

Out on him, traitor, for a filthy beast;
Nay, and he's like the pack of all the rest.
None orasem stick at mark; they all deceive.
Some Jew 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, though 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 them,
With Latin stuff, “ Perjuria ridet Amantûm."
I'm not book-learn'd, to know that word in

But I suspect 'tis Latin for a rogue.
I'm sure, I never heard that scritch-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 stand, like foremen of a shop, demure:
No sooner out of fight, but they are gadding,
And for the next new face ride out a-padding.
Yet, hy their favour, when they have been kissing,
We can perceive the ready money missing.
Well! we may rail; but ’tis as good ev'n wink;
Something we find, and something they will fink.



[ocr errors][ocr errors]

But since they're at renouncing, 'tis our parts,
To trump their diamonds, as they trump our hearts.



A Qualm of conscience brings me back again

, To make amends to you be{patter'd men. We women love like cats, that hide their joys, By growling, fqualling, 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 squandering shows, at least, a noble heart. I've 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 heroes in a play go But chamber-practice is not like the bar. When men fuch vile, such faint, 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 usurp it from the female nation, 'Tis but a work of supererogation We shew'd a princess in the play, 'tis true, Who gave her Cæfar more than all his due;



« ПредишнаНапред »