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The works of Mr. Thomas Brown

Serious and Comical, In Prose and Verse; In four volumes. The Fourth Edition, Corrected, and much Enlarged from his Originals never before publish'd. With a key to all his Writings

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108

Epilogue.

Not with more Grief the Whiggish herd beheld
Their Plots discover'd, their Intriegues reveal'd,
And all their Godly Villanies run down;
Than now we feel to leave your happy Town.
Now must our Tribe, since we depart from you,
Shake Hands with Learning, and bid Wit adieu:
With doggrel Rimes the stupid rout appease,
And murder English perfectly to please.
So some to get an Alms a lameness feign,
And by pretended halting pity gain.
When to some Town our strowling Troops repair,
Leave's to be granted by the worthy Mayor:
He with his numerous Train first takes his Seat,
Below his Scarlet Brethren fill the Pit.
Then ev'n our Women must less gay appear,
Leave Painting off, lest they should seem more fair
Than the pale Daughter of the Reverend Mayor.
If we in acting, as our part requires,
Swear by the Gods, and all the heavenly Fires,
The Sot pricks up a wondrous pair of Ears,
My Zeal no longer such profaneness bears,
Twelvepence for every Oath your Hero swears.
Wit here, triumphant, bears an ample sway,
And the bright Metal shines without allay;
Nothing is here condemn'd for being good,
Nor talk we Nonsense to be understood.
But tho' your Learning the whole Isle inspires,
Your Townsmen warm not by the neighbring Fires,
Born in the happy place, where Wit does rule,
They keep their natural Right of being dull.
So the rude Nations, where with greatest light
The reveal'd Truth was first expos'd to sight,
By no Rewards, no Miracles reclaim'd,
Wou'd ev'n in spight of Providence be damn'd,

109

Howe'er our Courtiers do their Fate dispose,
Dullness the Charter is they'll never lose.