The Restauration : Or, Right will take Place A Tragicomedy |
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THE EPILOGUE, To be Spoken by the Governour
. By the Duke of Buckingham. |
 | The Restauration : Or, Right will take Place |  |
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THE EPILOGUE, To be Spoken by the Governour . By the Duke of Buckingham.
If by my deep Contrivance, Wit and SkillThings fall out cross to what I mean them still,
You must not wonder; 'tis the common Fate
Of almost all grave Governours of late:
And one would swear, as every Plot has sped,
They thought more with their Elbows than their Head;
Yet they go on as brisk, and look as well,
As if they had out wisdom'd Machiavel:
So Curs will wagg their Tails, and think they've won us,
At the same instant they make water on us.
Is't not to see Men should have none,
That have such tedious, fulsom Bungling shown;
For to go Five Years wrong with Art and Pains,
Does shew a most prodigious want of Brains;
Nay, tho' he ne'er judg'd right, yet there was one
Who bragadocied still himself upon
Being infallible, but he is gone.
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To rail still against Popery and Hope,
He might presume to be himself a Pope:
Tho' he might any thing presume to be
That could deceive Fops so infallibly;
The most egregious of all Scribes could tell
There never was such an Achitophel:
And true Admirers of his Parts and Glory,
Will doubtless have a just Renown in Story.
Ten Guineas that Lord paid for't, as Fame goes,
Above ten times its worth the World knows;
But he'll be better paid yet, I suppose.
They were a matchless pair, the one to plot,
The other to extol still what was not.
Yet faith the little Lord, when hence he ran,
Did compass one thing like an able Man:
For since he could not living act with Reason,
'Twas shrewdly done of him to die in Season.
| The Restauration : Or, Right will take Place | |