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Epilogue.

Now , in Good Manners, nothing shou'd be sed
Against this Play, because the Poet's dead.
The Prologue told us of a Moral here:
Wou'd I cou'd find it, but the Devil knows where.
If in my Part it lyes, I fear he means
To warn us of the Sparks behind our Scenes:
For if you'l take it on Dalinda's Word,
'Tis a hard Chapter to refuse a Lord.
The Poet might pretend this Moral too,
That when a Wit and Fool together woo;
The Damsel (not to break an Ancient Rule,)
Shou'd leave the Wit, and take the Wealthy Fool.
This he might mean, but there's a Truth behind,
And since it touches none of all our Kind,
But Masks and Misses; faith, I'le speak my Mind.
What, if he Taught our Sex more cautious Carriage,
And not to be too Coming before Marriage:
For fear of my Misfortune in the Play,
A Kid brought home upon the Wedding day:
I fear there are few Sancho's in the Pit,
So good as to forgive, and to forget;
That will, like him, restore us into Favour,
And take us after on our good Behaviour.
Few, when they find the Mony Bag is rent,
Will take it for good Payment on content.


But in the Telling, there the difference is,
Sometimes they find it more than they cou'd wish.
Therefore be warn'd, you Misses and you Masks,
Look to your hits, nor give the first that asks.
Tears, Sighs, and Oaths, no truth of Passion prove,
True Settlement alone, declares true Love.
For him that Weds a Puss, who kept her first,
I say but little, but I doubt the worst:
The Wife that was a Cat may mind her house,
And prove an Honest, and a Careful Spouse;
But faith I wou'd not trust her with a Mouse.
FINIS.