| |
| DISCORD 1 and Plots, which have undone our Age, | |
| With the same ruine have o’erwhelmed the Stage. | |
| Our House has suffered in the common Woe, | |
| We have been troubled with Scotch Rebels too. | |
| Our brethren are from Thames to Tweed departed, | 5 |
| And of our Sisters all the kinder-hearted | |
| To Edenborough gone, or coached or carted. | |
| With bonny Blewcap there they act all night | |
| For Scotch half-crown, in English Three-pence hight. | |
| One Nymph, to whom fat Sir John Falstaff’s lean, | 10 |
| There with her single Person fills the Scene. | |
| Another, with long Use and Age decay’d, | |
| Div’d here old Woman, and rose there a Maid. | |
| Our trusty Door-keepers of former time | |
| There strut and swagger in Heroique Rhyme. | 15 |
| Tack but a copper Lace to drugget Suit, | |
| And there’s a Heroe made without Dispute; | |
| And that which was a Capon’s tayl before | |
| Becomes a plume for Indian emperor. | |
| But all his Subjects, to express the Care | 20 |
| Of Imitation, go, like Indians, bare; | |
| Lac’d Linen there would be a dangerous Thing; | |
| It might perhaps a new Rebellion bring; | |
| The Scot who wore it wou’d be chosen King. | |
| But why should I these Renegades describe, | 25 |
| When you yourselves have seen a lewder Tribe? | |
| Teag has been here, and to this learned Pit | |
| With Irish Action slandered English Wit; | |
| You have beheld such barbarous Macs appear | |
| As merited a second Massacre; | 30 |
| Such as like Cain were branded with Disgrace, | |
| And had their Country stampt upon their Face. | |
| When Strollers durst presume to pick your purse, | |
| We humbly thought our broken Troop not worse. | |
| How ill soe’er our Action may deserve, | 35 |
| Oxford’s a place where Wit can never sterve. | |
