EPILOGUE TO THE JEALOUS LOVERS.

     By Mrs. Behn, in 1682.

And how, and how, Mesieurs! what do you say
To our good Moderate, Conscientious Play?
Not Whig, nor Tory, here can take Offence;
It Libels neither Patriot, Peer, nor Prince,
Nor Shrieve, nor Burgess, nor the Reverend Gown.   }
Faith here’s no Scandal worth eight hundred pound;   }
Your Damage is at most but half-a-Crown.   }
Only this difference you must allow,   }
’Tis you receive th’ Affront and pay us too,   }
Wou’d Rebell WARD had manag’d matters so.   }
Here’s no Reflections on Damn’d Witnesses,   }
We scorn such out-of-Fash’on’d Things as These;   }
They fail to be believ’d, and fail to please.   }
No Salamanca Doctor-ship abus’d,
Not a Malicious States-man here accus’d;
No Smutty Scenes, no intrigues up Stairs,
That make your City Wives in Love with Players.
But here are fools of every sort and Fashion,   }
Except State-Fools, the Tools of Reformation,   }
Or Cullys of the Court — Association.   }
And those Originals decline so fast
We shall have none to Copy by at last;
Here’s Jo, and Jack a pair of whining Fools,
And L[e]igh and I brisk Lavish keeping Fools,
He’s for Mischief all, and carry’s it on
With Fawne and Sneere as Jilting Whigg has done.
And like theirs too his Projects are o’rethrown.

A PASTORAL to Mr. Stafford, Under the Name of SILVIO on his Translation of the Death of Camilla: out of VIRGIL. By Mrs. Behn.