An Epilogue intended for a late COMEDY, and to be spoke by Mr. MONFORD, in a long Presbyterian Cloak.

FRom a strange Miracle which none can prove,
For sure no fool could e'er run mad for Love,
From antick whim, compos'd of Song and Rant,
Our hot-brain'd Scribler now will make me cant,
He says this Carb and a right Tone will fit
Most of the City Wives that here are met,
Which if it happen is a fair occasion
To bring us all the Non-cons of the Nation:
Things now, thank Heaven, are at a better pass,
Than late they were before the Act of Grace;
And if this Project is but manag'd right,
Gad we shall strip the Conventicles quite,
If so, who values how your sensure falls,
There's many a Play-house full within the Walls:
Sharp Judges with short Hair and little Bands,
Will tear their Cuffs with clapping of their Hands:
I'll try for once.
Dear Sisters that to Prayers in Pattins go,
And all the force of Bowel yernings know;
Let not your Breasts for Sinners pant and heave,
But seek the Truth, and to my Bosom cleave;
Lewd frothy Bullies only can provoke,
There's somthing worth your while under the Cloak,
I this will do.
This will my Female Friends from Wapping call,
A Tone with Women brings the Devil and all:
But Sirs, methinks, you malancholly grow,
To teach you then what virtue is in show;
Look ye, this Wig translates me to a Bow:
Now let me hear the proudest of ye say
Amongst you all, that he dislikes the Play.
If ye are Envious, vent it all at home,
Wit pardons Faults, since every one has some;
And that how few correctly use their Pen,
I leave to th' Judgment of all witty Men,
And so I'll be a Canting Rogue agen.
Friends, I would fain adapt to these our Times,
Religious Use of reasoning in Rhimes;
Sincerely use the Laborer to day,
W' are now united and may see a Play;
Affinity of Works our liking calls,
For all our Labors are a kind of Drolls.
'Mongst all the Females here that want conducting
For I've a great desire to be instructing,
Hor to convince I do intreat alone,
To come up to my Room and rub me down;
And if she be not throughly satisfi'd,
Let her from me my choicest Gifts divide,
Make me a Scoff amongst the Sons of Men,
As never able to hold forth agen.