Prologue spoken by Mr. HAINS to TRAPOLIN, or a Duke and no Duke. Thomas D'Urfey Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. R17889 D'Urfey, Thomas, 1653-1723. New poems, consisting of satyrs, elegies, and odes together with a choice collection of the newest court songs set to musick by the best masters of the age / all written by Mr. D'Urfey. London Printed for J. Bullord ... and A. Roper ... 1690 pp. 88-91. [16],207,[1]p.

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Prologue spoken by Mr. HAINS to TRAPOLIN , or a Duke and no Duke . TRapolin suppos'd a Prince , this humour shows Strange Matters do depend upon suppose , You wh—res To the Eighteen penny Gallery . may be thought Chast , You Criticks witty To the Pit . And I that have been kept for being pretty , Suppos'd a Beau , through the well govern'd City ; Fancy digested into strong Supposes , Makes Cheeks fair , where no Lillies grow nor Roses , And Women beautiful that want their Noses : 'Tis that and Nature all the World inspires , Fancy's the Bellows , kindling up new Fires When th' Fuel's gone , that should supply desires ; And Nature is the Parent we all know , By whom like Plants , we fructifie and grow . The Reverend Citizen sixty and above , That by poor Inch of Candle barters Love ; Supposes , that his Son and Heir he got , But ask his Wife , and she supposes not . The Trees by Rosamonds Pond her Sins have known , And the dear Leaves still stick upon her Gown ; Whilst the dull Sot , that's just a C— old made , Supposes she's at Church , and praying for a Trade . The Country Novice newly come to Town , Doom'd by his Parents to a dagled Gown ; That wanting Grace , in Love most lewdly falls With some hot Nymph in these unhallow'd Walls , Supposes some bright Angel he has gotten , Till finding by sad signs the Wh—re was rotten ; His sweating Study's chang'd to sweating Tubs , And Doctor Littleton , for Doctor Hobs , Pray tell me , who would marry here among ye , ( For Whoring ye all hate , I scorn to wrong ye , ) That did not first suppose his Wife a Maid , And Virgin Pleasures blest the Marriage Bed ; Yet 'tis Opinion must your Peace secure , For no Experiment can do't I'm sure ; In Paths of Love , no footsteps e'er were trac'd , All you can do is to suppose her Chast ; For Women are of that deep subtle kind The more you dive to know , the less you find , Ah , Ladies , what strange Fate attends us Men , For when we prudently would scape your gin , Sweet Supposition draws the Woodcocks in : In all Affairs 'tis so , the Lawyer bawls , And with dam'd Noise and Nonsence plagues the Halls , Supposing after seven years being a Drudge , 'Twill be his Fortune to be made a Judge : The Parson too that prays against Ill Weathers , That thumps the Cushion till he leaves no Feathers , Would let his Flock , I fear , grow very lean , Without a fat Suppose of being a Dean : In every thing is some by End , but Wit , And that has too much Virtue in't , to get ; Then for our sakes that want a lucky Hit , Let kind Suppose , for once possess your Mind , Think in that Charm all Pleasures are confin'd , Tho you mislike the Farce , pray don't disclose it ; But if you are not satisfi'd , — Suppose it .