I pass your Schools, for there when first you came,

You wou'd be sure to learn the Latin

name.

In Colledges, you scorn'd their Art of thinking, But learn'd all Moods and Figures of good Drinking:

Thence come to Town, you practise Play, to know

The Vertues of the High Dice and the Low. Each thinks himself a SHARPER most profound:

He cheats by Pence, is cheated by the Pound.

With these perfections, and what else he gleans,

The SPARK sets up for Love behind our Scenes,

Hot in pursuit of Princesses and Queens. There, if they know their Man, with cunning Carriage,

Twenty to one but it concludes in Marriage. He hires some homely Room, Love's Fruits to gather,

And Garret-high rebells against his Father: But he once dead

Brings her in Triumph, with her Portion, down,

A Twillet, Dressing-Box, and Half a Crown.

Some Marry first, and then they fall to Scowring, 51

Which is, Refining Marriage into Whoring. Our Women batten well on their good Nature,

All they can rap and rend for the dear Creature.

But while abroad so liberal the DOLT is, Poor SPOUSE at Home as Ragged as a Colt is.

Last, some there are, who take their first
Degrees

Of Lewdness in our middle Galleries;
The Doughty BULLIES enter Bloody
Drunk,

59

Invade and grabble one another's PUNK; They Caterwoul, and make a dismal Rout, Call SONS of WHORES, and strike, but ne're lug out:

Thus, while for Paultry Punk they roar and stickle,

They make it Bawdier than a Conventicle.

PROLOGUE.

FULL twenty years and more, our lab'ring
Stage

Has lost, on this incorrigible age:
Our Poets, the John Kelches of the Nation,
Have seem'd to lash yee ev'n to excoriation:
But still no sign remains; which plainly notes
You bore like Hero's or you brib'd like Oates.
What can we do, when mimicking a Fop,
Like beating Nut-trees, makes a larger Crop?
Faith, we'll e'en spare our pains, and to
content you,

We'll fairly leave you what your Maker meant you.

Satyre was once your Physick, Wit
Food;

your

One nourisht not, and t' other drewno Blood.
Wee now prescribe, like Doctors in despair,
The Diet your weak appetites can bear.
Since hearty Beef and Mutton will not do,

DISAPPOINTMENT 35 their] edd. give the
ALBION AND ALBANIUS, 1685.

So great a Trust to him alone was due ; Well have they trusted whom so well they knew.

The Saint, who walk'd on Waves, securely trod,

While he believ'd the beckning of his God; But, when his Faith no longer bore him out,

Began to sink, as he began to doubt.
Let us our native Character maintain,
'Tis of our Growth to be sincerely plain.
T' excel in Truth we Loyally may strive,
Set Privilege against Prerogative:
He Plights his Faith, and we believe him
just:

His Honour is to Promise, ours to Trust.
Thus Britain's Basis on a Word is laid,
As by a Word the World it self was made.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by a Woman.

THE Judge remov'd, tho he's no more My Lord,

May plead at Bar, or at the Council-Board: So may cast Poets write; there's no Preten

sion, To argue loss of Wit from loss of Pension. Your looks are cheerful; and in all this place I see not one that wears a damning face. The British Nation is too brave to show

DON SEBASTIAN, 1690. Published in 1690.

30

II

Ignoble vengeance on a vanquish'd foe.
At least be civil to the Wretch imploring;
And lay your Paws upon him without roaring:
Suppose our Poet was your foe before,
Yet now, the bus'ness of the Field is o'er;
'Tis Time to let your Civil Wars alone,
When Troops are into Winter-quarters gone.
Jove was alike to Latian and to Phrygian;
And you well know, a Play's of no Religion.
Take good advice, and please your selves
this Day

No matter from what hands you have the Play.
Among good Fellows ev'ry health will pass,
That serves to carry round another glass: 20

When with full bowls of Burgundy you dine,)
Tho at the Mighty Monarch you repine,
You grant him still most Christian, in his
Wine.

Thus far the Poet; but his brains grow
Addle,

And all the rest is purely from this Noddle. You've seen young Ladies at the Senate door

Prefer Petitions, and your grace implore ; However grave the Legislators were, Their Cause went ne're the worse for being fair. 29

Reasons as weak as theirs, perhaps I bring; But I cou'd bribe you with as good a thing, I heard him make advances of good Nature, That he for once, wou'd sheath his cutting Satyr:

Sign but his Peace, he vows he'll ne'er again

The Sacred Names of Fops and Beaus profane.

Strike up the Bargain quickly; for I swear, As Times go now, he offers very fair.

Be not too hard on him with Statutes neither;

Be kind; and do not set your Teeth together,

To stretch the Laws, as Coblers do their Leather.

40 Horses by Papists are not to be ridden, But sure the Muses Horse was ne're for

bidden;

For in no Rate-Book it was ever found That Pegasus was valued at Five-pound : Fine him to dayly Drudging and Inditing; And let him pay his Taxes out in Writing.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken betwixt Antonio and Morayma. Mor. I Quak'd at heart for fear the Royal Fashion

Shou'd have seduc'd Us two to Seperation: To be drawn in, against our own desire, Poor I to be a Nun, poor You a Fryar.

Ant. I trembled when the Old Man's hand was in,

He would have prov'd we were too near of kin,

Epilogue 36 Votes] The editors impertinently Lives] The editors give Life

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by PHÆDRA, Mrs. MOUNTfort.

I'm thinking (and it almost makes me mad)

How sweet a time those Heathen Ladies had.

Idolatry was ev'n their Gods' own trade: They Worshipt the fine Creatures they had made.

Cupid was chief of all the Deities;
And Love was all the fashion, in the
Skies.

When the sweet Nymph held up the Lilly hand,

Jove, was her humble Servant, at Command.
The Treasury of Heav'n was ne're so bare,
But still there was a Pension for the Fair. 10
In all his Reign, Adultry was no Sin;
For Jove the good Example did begin.
Mark too, when he usurp'd the Husband's

name,

How civilly he sav'd the Ladies fame.
The secret Joys of Love he wisely hid;
But you, Sirs, boast of more than e'er you
did.

You teize your Cuckolds; to their face torment 'em :

But Jove gave his, new Honours to content

em,

And, in the kind Remembrance of the

Fair,

20

On each exalted Son, bestowed a Star. For these good deeds, as by the date appears,

His Godship flourish'd full Two thousand Years.

At last, when He and all his Priests grew old, The Ladies grew in their devotion cold; And that false Worship would no longer hold.

Severity of Life did next begin; (And always does, when we no more can Sin.) That Doctrine, too, so hard, in Practice, lyes, That the next Age may see another rise. Then, Pagan Gods may, once again, succeed;

And Jove, or Mars, be ready, at our need, To get young Godlings; and, so, mend our breed.

29