"_ Lib. ix.]
EPILOGUE.
WRITTEN BY MR DRYDEN[1].
SPOKEN BY MRS COOK.
Much time and trouble this poor play has cost;
And, 'faith, I doubted once the cause was lost.
Yet no one man was meant, nor great, nor small;
Our poets, like frank gamesters, threw at all.
They took no single aim:--
But, like bold boys, true to their prince, and hearty,
Huzza'd, and fired broadsides at the whole party.
Duels are crimes; but, when the cause is right,
In battle every man is bound to fight.
For what should hinder me to sell my skin, }
Dear as I could, if once my hand were in? }
_Se defendendo_ never was a sin. }
'Tis a fine world, my masters! right or wrong,
The Whigs must talk, and Tories hold their tongue.
They must do all they can,
But we, forsooth, must bear a christian mind;
And fight, like boys, with one hand tied behind;
Nay, and when one boy's down, 'twere wond'rous wise,
To cry,--box fair, and give him time to rise.
When fortune favours, none but fools will dally; }
Would any of you sparks, if Nan, or Mally, }
Tip you the inviting wink, stand, shall I, shall I? }
A Trimmer cried, (that heard me tell this story)
Fie, mistress Cook, 'faith you're too rank a Tory!
Wish not Whigs hanged, but pity their hard cases;
You women love to see men make wry faces.
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