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The Sultaness

A Tragedy
  
  
  
EPILOGUE.
  
  

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EPILOGUE.

Spoke by Mrs. Santlow.
Ladies , you now perhaps may want Relief,
And wake with Pleasure from a Dream of Grief;
When Bajazet had left his Dear behind him,
You see how much in haste, she dy'd to find him:
Commend me to the Turks for lasting Love,
When once on Earth begun, it never ends above.
—But there's one Blot, the Criticks may insist on,
They'll say, we make our Turk too good a Christian:
They are not quite so bad as you believe,
You talk of Vertue, but they vertuous live.
Even the Seraglio, stock'd with Royal Game,
Is not so vile in Practice, as in Fame;
There but One Man dares hunt, or brush a Feather;
And he, perhaps,—no mighty Sportsman neither:
That Place—believe me Christians, 'tis most true,
Is chaster than a Nunnery with you.
—Yet wherefore shou'd I boast? the Turbant Sway
Is absolute—they tremble and obey:
—Ay—'tis a comfortable Thing to be,
Whate'er you think on't, British Ladies, free:
Yes, England is the Paradise for Beauty,
Here not one Heart i'th'Island but is true t'ye;
You, to your lasting Glory disapprove
All Tyranny—that does not rise from Love.
Here but One Man is Master of One Wife,
No Slave, but his Companion during Life;


Takes her to Church, gives her a Ring and Purse;
To have and hold, for better and for worse:
Nay, if the Freeborn Woman takes a Fancy,
In a close Hack, to sip a Dram of Nantcy;
Or with a Friend, to eat a Bit in private,
'Tis what no Man of Sense but does Connive at.
Yes, he's oblig'd by Law, while he resides
Within four Seas, to keep what she provides.
You've Balls—Assemblies—Masquerades and Plays,
And all your Bridal Years—are Holy-days:
Well—O' my Conscience, were there nought to stop
Their Flight;—the whole Seraglio wou'd Elope;
Attempt to Rival you, in all your Charms,
And take a Refuge in the British Arms:
There where the Sultan, their half-vanquish'd Lord,
Flies for Protection from Eugenio's Sword,
To distant Britain's Prince, who wise and great,
In equal Balance, holds Europa's Fate:
From him contending Nations seek Redress,
He bids, like Jove, the warring Thunder cease,
And regulates this shatter'd Orb in Peace.