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EPILOGUE To the OPERA. By Mr. Dryden.

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EPILOGUE To the OPERA. By Mr. Dryden.

After our Æsop's Fable, shown to day,
I come to give the Moral of the Play.
Feign'd Zeal, you saw, set out the speedier pace;
But, the last heat, Plain Dealing won the Race:
Plain Dealing for a Jewel has been known;
But ne'er till now the Jewel of a Crown.
When Heav'n made Man, to show the work Divine,
Truth was his Image, stampt upon the Coin:
And, when a King is to a God refin'd,
On all he says and does, he stamps his Mind:
This proves a Soul without allay, and pure;
Kings, like their Gold, should every touch endure.
To dare in Fields is Valour; but how few
Dare be so throughly Valiant to be true?
The Name of Great, let other Kings affect:
He's Great indeed, the Prince that is direct.
His Subjects know him now, and trust him more,
Than all their Kings, and all their Laws before.
What safety could their publick Acts afford?
Those he can break; but cannot break his Word.
So great a Trust to him alone was due;
Well have they trusted whom so well they knew.
The Saint, who walk'd on Waves, securely trod,
While he believ'd the beckning of his God;
But, when his Faith no longer bore him out,
Began to sink, as he began to doubt.
Let us our native Character maintain,
'Tis of our growth, to be sincerely plain.
T'excel in Truth, we Loyally may strive;
Set Privilege against Prerogative:
He Plights his Faith; and we believe him just;
His Honour is to Promise, ours to Trust.
Thus Britain's Basis on a Word is laid,
As by a Word the World it self was made.
FINIS.