 | The Double Distress |  |
EPILOGUE.
Sent by C. V.Faction , the Curse of every free-born State,
The People's Darling, and the Prince's Hate,
Reigns with Advantage in this froward Age,
And with pernicious discontented Rage,
Embroils the Court and Town; nay, ev'n the Stage.
Statesmen are Born, are Nurst, and bred by Faction,
Love, Quarrel, Think, and drink by her Direction.
The Citt enjoys her in her vilest Dress,
None Courts her more, nor understands her less.
Faction in other Men by Wit is bred,
To sow Division, asks a thinking Head.
Here Money does the want of Wit supply;
And those that have not Brains to think, can buy.
While Old, and New, contend to rule the Rost,
The Venal Corporations follow most,
Not who deserves, but who defrays the Cost;
Yet ne'er imagine that this mighty bustling
Is but to furnish Fools with Tea and Muslin.
Sure these two Companies from ours arose,
Faction divided first, and made 'em Foes,
And want but our Example now to close.
Let 'em with us lay hold on the occasion,
Was lately given for Reconciliation,
He who propos'd for us shall do the same
(If they're content to be control'd) for them:
'Twould be a lucky Thought for the Projector,
If they should make his Worship a Director.
'Faith, as to us, I think (who e'er he was)
He had contriv'd himself a pretty place.
None but selected Beauty's here had shone
The Choice of all the Fair had been his own.
Turk Mahomet had never liv'd like him.
If the Reformers of this pious Age
Will set up a Seraglio on the Stage,
Pray let the Governour, before he come in
His Place, be qualify'd to rule the Women.
You know how 'tis in Turky; Let the Town
Prevent his Pleasure, to secure their own.
| The Double Distress | |