Classic Poem

PROLOGUE

Lord , how reform'd and quiet are we grown,
Since all our braves and all our wits are gone!
Fop-corner now is free from civil war,
White-wig and vizard make no longer jar.
France, and the fleet, have swept the town so clear
That we can act in peace, and you can hear.
[Those that durst fight are gone to get renown,
And those that durst not, blush to stand in town.]
'Twas a sad sight, before they march'd from home,
To see our warriors in red waistcoats come,
With hair tuck'd up, into our tiring-room.
But 'twas more sad to hear their last adieu:
The women sobb'd, and swore they would be true;
And so they were, as long as e'er they could,
But powerful guinea cannot be withstood,
And they were made of playhouse flesh and blood.
Fate did their friends for double use ordain;
In wars abroad they grinning honor gain,
And mistresses for all that stay maintain.
Now they are gone, 'tis dead vacation here,
For neither friends nor enemies appear.
Poor pensive punk now peeps ere plays begin,
Sees the bare bench, and dares not venture in;
But manages her last half-crown with care,
And trudges to the Mall, on foot, for air.
Our city friends so far will hardly come,
They can take up with pleasures nearer home;
And see gay shows and gaudy scenes elsewhere;
For we presume they seldom come to hear.
But they have now ta'en up a glorious trade,
And cutting Morecraft struts in masquerade.
There's all our hope, for we shall show to-day
A masking ball, to recommend our play;
Nay, to endear 'em more, and let 'em see
We scorn to come behind in courtesy,
We'll follow the new mode which they begin,
And treat 'em with a room, and couch within:
For that's one way, howe'er the play fall short,
T' oblige the town, the city, and the court.

EPILOGUE

T HUS have my spouse and I inform'd the nation,
And led you all the way to reformation;
Not with dull morals, gravely writ, like those
Which men of easy phlegm with care compose —
(Your poets of stiff words and limber sense,
Born on the confines of indifference;)
But by examples drawn, I dare to say,
From most of you who hear and see the play.
There are more Rhodophils in this theater,
More Palamedes, and some few wives, I fear:
But yet too far our poet would not run;
Tho' 'twas well offer'd, there was nothing done,
He would not quite the woman's frailty bare,
But stripp'd 'em to the waist, and left 'em there:
And the men's faults are less severely shown,
For he considers that himself is one.
Some stabbing wits, to bloody satire bent,
Would treat both sexes with less compliment;
Would lay the scene at home; of husbands tell,
For wenches taking up their wives i' th' Mell;
And a brisk bout, which each of them did want,
Made by mistake of mistress and gallant.
Our modest author thought it was enough
To cut you off a sample of the stuff:
He spar'd my shame, which you, I'm sure, would not,
For you were all for driving on the plot:
You sigh'd when I came in to break the sport,
And set your teeth when each design fell short.
To wives and servants all good wishes lend,
But the poor cuckold seldom finds a friend.
Since, therefore, court and town will take no pity,
I humbly cast myself upon the city.

SONGS

I

I

W HY should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,
When passion is decay'd?
We lov'd, and we lov'd, as long as we could,
Till our love was lov'd out in us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure is fled:
'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

II

If I have pleasures for a friend,
And farther love in store,
What wrong has he whose joys did end,
And who could give no more?
'Tis a madness that he should be jealous of me,
Or that I should bar him of another:
For all we can gain is to give ourselves pain,
When neither can hinder the other.

II

I

W HILST Alexis lay press'd
In her arms he lov'd best,
With his hands round her neck, and his head on her breast,
He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay,
And his soul in the tempest just flying away.

II

When Celia saw this,
With a sigh and a kiss,
She cried: " O my dear, I am robb'd of my bliss!
'Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done,
To leave me behind you, and die all alone. "

III

The youth, tho' in haste,
And breathing his last,
In pity died slowly, while she died more fast;
Till at length she cried: " Now, my dear, now let us go;
Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too! "

IV

Thus intranc'd they did lie,
Till Alexis did try
To recover new breath, that again he might die:
Then often they died; but the more they did so,
The nymph died more quick, and the shepherd more slow.