Sure heaven itself is at a loss to know

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If these would have their prayers be heard, or

no:

For, in great stakes, we piously fuppofe,
Men pray but very faintly they may lofe.

Leave off these wagers; for, in confcience fpeaking,

The city needs not your new tricks for break

ing:

And if you gallants lofe, to all appearing,

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You'll want an equipage for volunteering ; While thus, no fpark of honour left within ye, When you should draw the fword, you draw the guinea.

EPILOGUE

ΤΟ

HENRY II.

[BY MR. MOUNTFORT, 1693.]

SPOKEN BY MRS. BRACEGIRDLE.

THUS you the fad catastrophe have seen,
Occafion'd by a mistress and a queen.

Queen Eleanor the proud was French, they fay;

But English manufacture got the day.

Jane Clifford was her name, as books aver: 5
Fair Rofamond was but her Nom de guerre.
Now tell me, gallants, would you lead your life
With fuch a miftrefs, or with fuch 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 wife;
Or take your pleasure in a wicked way,
Like honest whoring Harry in the play?

10

I guess your minds: the mistress would be

taken,

15

And naufeous matrimony fent a packing.
The devil's in you all; mankind's a rogue;
You love the bride, but you deteft the clog.
After a year, poor fpoufe is left i' th' lurch,
And you,
like Haynes, return to mother-church.
Or, if the name of Church comes cross your

21

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, fome of you, I dare not fay how many, 25 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 fome fmall perquifites I have befide. Though for your love, perhaps, I should not

care,

I could not hate a man that bids me fair. What might enfue, 'tis hard for me to tell; But I was drench'd to-day for loving well, And fear the poifon that would make me fwell.

Ver. 15.

30

the mistress would be taken, And nauseous matrimony fent a packing.] The incident of Lady Eafy's throwing her handkerchief over Sir Charles's head, whilft he was fleeping, feems to have been taken from the Memoirs of Baffompiere, concerning a Count d'Orgevillier and his mistress, tom. ii. p. 6. 1728. at Amfterdam. Dr. J. WARTON.

PROLOGUE

то

ALBUMAZAR.

To fay, this comedy pleas'd long ago,
Is not enough to make it pafs you now.
Yet, gentlemen, your ancestors had wit;
When few men cenfur'd, and when fewer writ.
And Jonfon, of those few the best, chose this, s
As the beft model of his mafter-piece.

Subtle was got by our Albumazar,

That Alchymift by this Aftrologer;

Here he was fashion'd, and we may fuppofe
He lik'd the fashion well, who wore the clothes.
But Ben made nobly his what he did mould; 11
What was another's lead, becomes his gold:
Like an unrighteous conqueror he reigns,
Yet rules that well, which he unjustly gains.
But this our age fuch authors does afford,
As make whole plays, and yet fcarce write one

word:

Who, in this anarchy of wit, rob all,

And what's their plunder, their poffeffion call:

15

20

Who, like bold padders, fcorn by night to prey,
But rob by fun-fhine, in the face of day:
Nay scarce the common ceremony use
Of, Stand, Sir, and deliver up your Mufe;
But knock the Poet down, and, with a grace,
Mount Pegasus before the author's face.
Faith, if you have fuch country Toms abroad, 25
"Tis time for all true men to leave that road.
Yet it were modeft, could it but be faid,
They ftrip the living, but thefe rob the dead;
Dare with the mummies of the Muses play,
And make love to them the Ægyptian way; 30
Or, as a rhiming author would have said,
Join the dead living to the living dead.
Such men in Poetry may claim fome part:
They have the license, though they want the art;
And might, where theft was prais'd, for Lau-
reats ftand,

35

Poets, not of the head, but of the hand.
They make the benefits of others ftudying,
Much like the meals of politic Jack-Pudding,
Whose dish to challenge no man has the cou-
rage;

"Tis all his own, when once he has spit i' the porridge.

But, gentlemen, you're all concern'd in this;
You are in fault for what they do amifs :
For they their thefts ftill undiscover'd think,
And durft not steal, unless you please to wink.

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