On a Rakish Officer, Who Writ a Very Silly Epilogue, in Affront to All Women

When Rakes become reformers, masquerade
Must be allowed a most extensive trade:
You call the world a stage—you find it so,
And well, to play, behind the curtain , know:
Mean while, your partners, on the far-fam'd strait ,
Act hero's sillier parts, and serve the state :
Fond of a safer toil , you change the scene ,
And, not in fields of war , but wit , grow lean:
How blest your fortune , in the king's warm pay ,
That lets your muse her own expence defray!
Merit , like yours, unprosp'rous else, might strive,
Shine inward, and be too refin'd to thrive.
O, Captain! you, who write , with such a grace ,
What thanks owes woman to your saving face!
Were but your eyes as piercing, as your quill ,
Tho' your sword's idle, yet your looks would kill.
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