Sidor som bilder
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EW minifters, when firft they get in place,

NEW

we

Must have a care to please; and that's our
cafe :

Some laws for public welfare we defign,
If you, the power fupreme, will please to join :
There are a fort of prattlers in the pit,
Who either have, or who pretend to wit:
These noify firs fo loud their parts rehearse,
That oft the play is filenc'd by the farce.
Let fuch be dumb, this penalty to fhun,
Each to be thought my lady's eldest son.
But ftay: methinks some vizard mask I see,
Caft out her lure from the mid gallery :
About her all the flutt'ring fparks are rang'd;
The noise continues tho the scene is chang'd:
Now growling, fputt'ring, wauling, such a clutter,
'Tis just like puss defendant in a gutter:

Fine love no doubt; but ere two days are o'er ye,
The furgeon will be told a woful story.

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Let vizard mafk her naked face expofe,
On pain of being thought to want a nose :
Then for your lacqueys, and your train befide,
By whate'er name or title dignify'd,

They roar fo loud, you'd think behind the ftairs
Tom Dove, and all the brotherhood of bears:
They're grown a nufance, beyond all difafters;
We've none fo great but their unpaying mafters.
We beg you, firs, to beg your men, that they
Would please to give you leave to hear the play.
Next in the play-houfe fpare your precious lives;
Think, like good chriftians, on your bearns and
wives:

Think on your fouls; 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, laft, our fcene-room to forbear,
And leave our goods and chattles to our care.
Alas! our women are but washy toys,
And wholly taken up in ftage employs:
yet I doubt
This double duty foon will wear them out.

Poor willing tits they are: but

Then you are watch'd befides with jealous care; What if my lady's page fhould find you there?

My lady knows t'a tittle what there's in ye;
No paffing your gilt fhilling for a guinea.'
Thus, gentlemen, we have fumm'd up in short
Our grievances, from country, town, and court:
Which humbly we fubmit to your good pleasure ;
But first vote money, then redress at leifure.

PROLOGUE

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PRINCESS

L

O F CLEVE S.

[By Mr. N. LEE, 1689.]

ADIES! (I hope there's none behind to hear)
I long to whisper fomething in your ear:

A fecret, which does much my mind perplex:
There's treafon in the play against our fex.
A man that's falfe to love, that vows and cheats,
And kiffes every living thing he meets.

A rogue in mode, I dare not speak too broad,
One that does fomething to the very bawd.
Out on him, traytor, for a filthy beast ;

Nay, and he's like the pack of all the reft:

None of them stick at mark; they all deceive.
Some Jew has chang'd the text, I half believe;
There Adam cozen'd our poor grandame Eve.
To hide their faults they rap out oaths, and tear:
Now, tho we lye, we're too well-bred to fwear.
So we compound for half the fin we owe,
But men are dipt for foul and body too;

And, when found out, excuse themselves, pox cant them,

With Latin stuff, Perjuria ridet Amantûm.

I'm not book-learn'd, to know that word in vogue,
But I fufpect 'tis Latin for a rogue.

I'm fure, I never heard that fcritch-owl hollow'd
In my poor ears, but feparation follow'd.
How can fuch perjur'd villains e'er be saved?
Achitophel's not half so false to David.
With vows and soft expreffions to allure,
They stand, like foremen of a shop, demure:
No fooner out of fight, but they are gadding,
And for the next new face ride out a padding.
Yet, by their favor, when they have been kiffing,
We can perceive the ready money miffing.
Well! we may rail; but 'tis as good e'en wink;
Something we find, and something they will fink.
But fince they're at renouncing, 'tis our parts,
To trump their diamonds, as they trump our hearts.

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EPILOGUE to

the fame.

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Qualm of confcience brings me back again, To make amends to you bespatter'd men. We women love like cats, that hide their joys, By growling, fqualling, and a hideous noise. I rail'd at wild young sparks, but, without lying, Neyer was man worse thought on for high-flying. The prodigal of love gives each her part, And fquandring fhows, at least, à noble heart. I've heard of men, who, in fome lewd lampoon, Have hir'd a friend, to make their valor known. That accufation ftraight this question brings; What is the man that does fuch naughty things? The spaniel lover, like a sneaking fop, Lies at our feet: he's scarce worth taking up. 'Tis true, fuch heroes in a play go far; But chamber-practice is not like the bar. When men fuch vile, fuch faint, petitions make, We fear to give, because they fear to take ; Since modefty's the virtue of our kind,

Pray let it be to our own sex confin'd.

When men ufurp it from the female nation, 'Tis but a work of supererogation

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