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Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON.
HOW 1 comes it, Gentlemen, that, now-a-days, | |
| When all of you so shrewdly judge of Plays, | |
| Our Poets tax you still with want of Sence? | |
| All Prologues treat you at your own Expence. | |
| Sharp Citizens a wiser way can go; | 5 |
| They make you Fools, but never call you so. | |
| They, in good Manners, seldom make a slip, | |
| But treat a Common Whore with Ladyship: | |
| But here each sawcy Wit at Random writes, | |
| And uses Ladies as he uses Knights. | 10 |
| Our Author, Young and Grateful in his Nature, | |
| Vows that from him no Nymph deserves a Satyr. | |
| Nor will he ever Draw—I mean his Rhime | |
| Against the sweet Partaker of his Crime. | |
| Nor is he yet so bold an Undertaker | 15 |
| To call MEN Fools, ’tis railing at their MAKER. | |
| Besides, he fears to split upon that Shelf; | |
| He’s young enough to be a FOP himself: | |
| And, if his Praise can bring you all A-bed, | |
| He swears such hopeful Youth no Nation ever bred. | 20 |
| Your Nurses, we presume, in such a Case, | |
| Your Father chose, because 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 some former Slip she ne’er betray’d. | 25 |
| Betwixt ’em both, for Milk and Sugar-Candy, | |
| Your sucking Bottles were well stor’d with Brandy. | |
| Your Father, to initiate your discourse, | |
| Meant to have taught you first to swear and curse, | |
| But was prevented by each careful Nurse. | 30 |
| 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 wou’d be sure to learn the Latin name. | |
| In Colledges, you scorn’d their 2 Art of thinking, | 35 |
| But learn’d all Moods and Figures of good Drinking: | |
| Thence come to Town, you practise Play, to know | |
| The Vertues of the High Dice and the Low. | |
| Each thinks himself a SHARPER most profound: | |
| He cheats by Pence, is cheated by the Pound. | 40 |
| With these perfections, and what else he gleans, | |
| The SPARK sets up for Love behind our Scenes, | |
| Hot in pursuit of Princesses and Queens. | |
| There, if they know their Man, with cunning Carriage, | |
| Twenty to one but it concludes in Marriage. | 45 |
| He hires some homely Room, Love’s Fruits to gather, | |
| And Garret-high rebells against his Father: | |
| But he once dead—— | |
| Brings her in Triumph, with her Portion, down, | |
| A Twillet, Dressing-Box, and Half a Crown. | 50 |
| Some Marry first, and then they fall to Scowring, | |
| 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 so liberal the DOLT is, | 55 |
| Poor SPOUSE at Home as Ragged as a Colt is. | |
| Last, some there are, who take their first Degrees | |
| Of Lewdness in our middle Galleries; | |
| The Doughty BULLIES enter Bloody Drunk, | |
| Invade and grabble one another’s PUNK; | 60 |
| They Caterwoul, and make a dismal Rout, | |
| Call SONS of WHORES, and strike, but ne’re lug out: | |
| Thus, while for Paultry Punk they roar and stickle, | |
| They make it Bawdier than a Conventicle. | |
