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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 power 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 silenced 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 mask I see
Cast out her lure from the mid gallery:

About her all the fluttering sparks are ranged;
The noise continues, though the scene is changed:
Now growling, sputtering, wawling, 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 lackeys, and your train beside,
By whate'er name or title dignified,

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.

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We beg you, Sirs, to beg your men, that they
Would please to give you leave to hear the play.
Next in the playhouse spare your precious lives;
Think, like good Christians, on your bairns 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 last 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 soon will wear them out.
Then you are watch'd besides with jealous care;
What if my Lady's page should find you there?
My Lady knows to' a tittle what there's in ye;
No passing your gilt shilling for a guinea.

Thus, Gentlemen, we have summed 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.

ΤΟ

THE PRINCESS OF CLEVES.

1689.

A QUALM of conscience brings me back again,
To make amends to you bespatter'd men.
We women love like cats, that hide their joys
By growling, squalling, 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 squandering shows, at least, a noble heart.
I've heard of men who, in some lewd lampoon,
Have hired 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 far;
But chamber-practice is not like the bar.
When men such vile, such faint 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 confined:
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 Cæsar more than all his due;
Told her own faults: but I should much abhor
To choose 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 proved,
Had she confess'd so much to him she loved.
True Presbyterian wives the means would try,
But damn'd confessing is flat Popery.

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life

THUS you the sad catastrophe have seen,
Occasion'd by a mistress and a queen.
Queen Eleanor the proud was French, they say;
But English manufacture got the day.
Jane Clifford was her name, as books aver;
Fair Rosamond was but her nom de guerre.
Now tell me, Gallants, would you lead your
With such a mistress, or with such a wife?
If one must be your choice, which d'ye approve,
The curtain lecture, or the curtain love?
Would ye be godly with perpetual strife,
Still drudging on with homely Joan your
Or take your pleasure in a wicked way,
Like honest whoring Harry in the play?

I

wife;

guess your minds: the mistress would be taken, And nauseous Matrimony sent a-packing. The devil's in you all; mankind's a rogue; You love the bride, but you detest the clog. After a year, poor spouse is left i' the' lurch, And you, like Haynes, return to mother-church. Or, if the name of Church comes cross your mind, Chapels of Ease behind our scenes you find. The playhouse is a kind of market-place; One chaffers for a voice, another for a face: Nay, some of you, I dare not say how many, Would buy of me a pen'worth for your penny.

E'en this poor face, which with my fan I hide,
Would make a shift my portion to provide,
With sonte small perquisites I have beside.
Though for your love, perhaps, I should not care,
I could not hate a man that bids me fair.
What might ensue 'tis hard for me to tell;
But I was drench'd to-day for loving well,
And fear the poison that would make me swell.

EPILOGUE.

You saw our wife was chaste, yet throughly tried,
And, without doubt, you're hugely edified;
For, like our hero, whom we show'd to-day,
You think no woman true, but in a play.
Love once did make a pretty kind of show;
Esteem and kindness in one breast would grow;
But 'twas, Heaven knows how many years ago.
Now some small chat, and guinea expectation,
Gets all the pretty creatures in the nation.
In comedy your little selves
you meet;
"Tis Covent Garden drawn in Bridges Street.
Smile on our author then, if he has shown
A jolly nut-brown bastard of your own.
Ah! happy you, with ease and with delight,
Who act those follies poets toil to write !
The sweating Muse does almost leave the chase;
She puffs, and hardly keeps your Protean vices pace.
Pinch but in one vice, away you fly

you

To some new frisk of contrariety.

You roll like snow-balls, gathering as you run, And get seven devils when dispossess'd of one.

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