No wonder their own plot no plot they think;
The man, that makes it, never finells the tink.
And now it comes into my head, I'll tell
Why thefe damn'd Trimmers lov'd the Turks fo well.
Th' original Trimmer, though a friend to no man,
Yet in his heart ador'd a pretty woman;

He knew that Mahomet laid up for ever

Kind black-ey'd rogues, for every true believer;
And, which was more than mortal man e'er tafted,
One pleasure that for threefcore twelvemonths lafted :
To turn for this, may furely be forgiven:
Who'd not be circumcis'd for fuch a heaven ?

XXV.

PROLOGUE to the DISAPPOINTMENT: Or, The MOTHER in FASHION.

[By Mr. SOUTHERN E, 1684.]
Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON.

HOW comes it, gentlemen, that now a-days,
When all of you fo fhrewdly judge of plays,

Our poets tax you ftill with want of sense?
All prologues treat you at your own expence.
Sharp citizens a wiser way can go;

They make you fools, but never call you fo.
They, in good-manners, feldom make a flip,
But treat a common whore with ladyship :
But here each faucy wit at random writes,
And ufes ladies as he ufes knights.

Our author, young and grateful in his nature,

Vows, that from him no nymph deferves a fatire
Nor will he ever draw-I mean his rhyme-

Against the fweet partaker of his crime.
Nor is he yet fo bold an undertaker,

To call men fools; 'tis railing at their Maker.
Befides, he fears to fplit upon that shelf;
He's young enough to be a fop himself :
And, if his praife can bring you all a-bed,
He fwears fuch hopeful youth no nation ever bred.
Your nurses, we prefume, in fuch a cafe,

Your father chofe, becaufe he lik'd the face;
And, often, they supply'd your mother's place.
The dry nurse was your mother's ancient maid,
Who knew fome former flip the ne'er betray'd.
Betwixt them both, for milk and fugar-candy,
Your fucking-bottles were well ftor'd with brandy.
Your father, to initiate your difcourfe,

Meant to have taught you first to swear and curfe,
But was prevented by each careful nurse.
For, leaving dad and mam, as names too common,
They taught you certain parts of man and woman.
I pass your schools; for there when first you came,
You would be fure to learn the Latin name.
In colleges you scorn'd the art of thinking,

But learn'd all moods and figures of good drinking:
Thence come to town, you practife play, to know
The virtues of the high dice, and the low.
Each thinks himself a fharper moft profound:
He cheats by pence; is cheated by the pound.

}

With thefe perfections, and what else he gieans,
The fpark fets up for love behind our fcenes;
Hot in purfuit of princeffes and queens.

There, if they know their man, with cunning carriage,
Twenty to one but it concludes in marriage.

He hires fome homely room, love's fruits to gather,
And garret-high rebels against his father:

But he once dead--

Brings her in triumph, with her portion, down,
A toilet, dreffing-box, and half a crown.
Some marry first, and then they fail to fcowering,
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 fo liberal the dolt is,

Poor fpoufe at home as ragged as a colt is.
Laft, fome there arc, who take their first degrees
Of lewdnefs in our middle galleries.

The doughty bullies enter bloody drunk,
Invade and grubble one another's punk :

They caterwaul, and make a dismal rout,

Call fons of whores, and ftrike, but ne'er lug out:
Thus while for paltry punk they roar and stickle,
They make it bawdier than a conventicle.

}

XXVI.

PROLOGUE to the KING and QUEEN, upon the Union of the Two Companies in 1686.

INCE faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of fashion,

SINCE

Their penny-scribes take care t'inform the nation, How well men thrive in this or that plantation :

How Penfylvania's air agrees with Quakers,
And Carolina's with Affociators:

Both ev'n too good for madmen and for traitors.

Truth is, our land with faints is fo run o'er,
And every age produces such a store,

That now there's need of two New-Englands more.

What's this, you'll fay, to us and our vocation ?
Only thus much, that we have left our station,
And made this theatre our new plantation.

The factious natives never could agree;
But aiming, as they cail'd it, to be free,
Thofe play-houfe Whigs fet up for property.

Some fay, they no obedience paid of late;
But would new fears and jealoufies create ;
Till topfy-turvy they had turn'd the state.

Plain fenfe, without the talent of foretelling,

Might guefs 'twould end in downright knocks and

quelling:

For feldom comes there better of rebelling.

When

When men will, needlefsly, their freedom barter
For lawless power, fometimes they catch a Tartar;
'There's, a damn'd word that rhymes to this, call'd
Charter.

But, fince the victory with us remains,
You fhall be call'd to twelve in all our gains;
If you'll not think us faucy for our pains.

Old men fhall have good old plays to delight them :
And you, fair ladies and gallants, that flight them,
We'll treat with good new plays; if our new wits can

write them.

We'll take no blundering verfe, no fuftian tumor,
No dribbling love, from this or that prefumer;
No dull fat fool fhamm'd on the stage for humour.

For, faith, fome of them fuch vile ftuff have made,
As none but fools or fairies ever play'd;

But 'twas, as fhopmen say, to force a trade.

We've given you Tragedies, all fense defying,
And finging men, in woful metre dying;
This 'tis when heavy lubbers will be flying.

All these difafters we well hope to weather;
We bring you none of our old lumber hither:
Whig poets and Whig sheriffs may hang together.

XXVII. EPILOGUE