 | Regulus |  |
PROLOGUE,
Methinks the late victorious day has spreadO'er all your Cheeks, a lively pleasing red.
Our Naval Glory warms you, flaming joys
Kindle illuminations in your Eyes.
The Monsieurs thought our men by Sea and Land
Wou'd run, and nothing but the women stand;
They knew they'd charge again, so their intent
Was on the Fair to make a fierce Descent.
Now we once more shall haue the full contoul
Of our own Seas, the French ne're won, but stole.
More goods will fall from France's wounded hand,
This Shock at Sea, will settle many a Land.
Ev'n France may quit her Chains, and more enjoy
Than a vain brag, Nous avous un Grand Roy;
For that's their all, it serves the Great instead
Of Manly Freedom, and the Poor for Bread.
Y'ave a Great King indeed, poor harrass'd Slave,
And that Great King has you, and all you have.
If I may name among the High, the Low,
This will a Peace upon the Stage bestow;
Where Factions oft with Claps and Hisses fought,
But now one Party has a total Rout.
T'expose their Pictures now we might be bold,
When Families are broke, their Goods are sold.
But we are too much pleas'd for Anger now,
What do not our brave Warriors bestow,
Defence and an Eternal Glorious Name?
Even we who fight not, share the Fighters Fame.
You cry w'have beat the French, when only here,
You board a Vizard, a French Privateer.
But, Sirs, we must not throw contempt on you,
Great is the publick service Lovers do.
'Tis needful since Mankind in Battel dies,
Beauties and Sparks should beat up for Supplies.
| Regulus | |