 | The Christian Hero |  |
77
EPILOGUE Spoken by Mrs. CLIVE.
The
serious Bus'ness of the Night being over,
Pray, Ladies, your Opinion of our Lover?
Will you allow the Man deserves the Name,
Who quits his Mistress to preserve—his Fame?
And what was Fame in that Romantick Age?—
But sure such Whims ne'er were but on the Stage.
Pray, Ladies, your Opinion of our Lover?
Will you allow the Man deserves the Name,
Who quits his Mistress to preserve—his Fame?
And what was Fame in that Romantick Age?—
But sure such Whims ne'er were but on the Stage.
A Statesman rack his Brains, a Soldier fight—
Merely to do an injur'd People Right.—
What! serve his Country, and get nothing by 't!
Why, ay, says Bays, George Castriot was the Man;
'Tis a known Truth—Believe him those who can.
Not but we've Patriots too, tho' I am told
There's a vast Diff'rence 'twixt the new and old:
Say, theirs cou'd fight, I'm sure that ours can—scold.
But to the Glory of the present Race,
No stubborn Principles their Worth debase;
Patriots when out, are Courtiers when in Place.
So, vice versa, turn a Courtier out,
No Weather-Cock more swiftly veers about.
His Country now, good Man! claims all his Care.—
Who'd see it plunder'd?—that's deny'd his Share.
Merely to do an injur'd People Right.—
What! serve his Country, and get nothing by 't!
Why, ay, says Bays, George Castriot was the Man;
'Tis a known Truth—Believe him those who can.
Not but we've Patriots too, tho' I am told
There's a vast Diff'rence 'twixt the new and old:
Say, theirs cou'd fight, I'm sure that ours can—scold.
But to the Glory of the present Race,
No stubborn Principles their Worth debase;
Patriots when out, are Courtiers when in Place.
So, vice versa, turn a Courtier out,
No Weather-Cock more swiftly veers about.
His Country now, good Man! claims all his Care.—
Who'd see it plunder'd?—that's deny'd his Share.
78
Since Courtiers and Anticourtiers both have shown
That by the Publick Good they mean their own;
What if each Briton, in his Private Station,
Should try to bilk those, who imbroil the Nation;
Quit either Faction, and, like Men, unite
To do their King and injured Country Right:
Both have been wrong'd: Prevent their guilty Joy,
Who wou'd your mutual Amity destroy.
Wou'd you preserve your Freedom? guard his Throne,
Who makes your Peace and Happiness his own.
Wou'd you be grateful? let your Monarch know
Which Way you wou'd be best, and make him so.
That by the Publick Good they mean their own;
What if each Briton, in his Private Station,
Should try to bilk those, who imbroil the Nation;
Quit either Faction, and, like Men, unite
To do their King and injured Country Right:
Both have been wrong'd: Prevent their guilty Joy,
Who wou'd your mutual Amity destroy.
Wou'd you preserve your Freedom? guard his Throne,
Who makes your Peace and Happiness his own.
Wou'd you be grateful? let your Monarch know
Which Way you wou'd be best, and make him so.
But soft! methinks, I hear some Fops complain;
Who came prepared to give the Ladies Pain,
That they have dress'd and spent—Gad's Curse—three Hours in vain.
Who came prepared to give the Ladies Pain,
That they have dress'd and spent—Gad's Curse—three Hours in vain.
No Hints obscene, improved by their broad Stare,
Have given Confusion to the tortured Fair.
We own the Charge. Let Monsieur Harlequin
And his trim Troop your loose Applauses win:
Too much already has each modest Ear
Been there insulted; we'll protect them here.
Have given Confusion to the tortured Fair.
We own the Charge. Let Monsieur Harlequin
And his trim Troop your loose Applauses win:
Too much already has each modest Ear
Been there insulted; we'll protect them here.
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