But what we cannot, your brave Heroe pays

He Builds those Monuments we strive to Raif

Such as to After-Ages fhall make known,

While he Records your Deathless Fame, his ow
So when an Artist fome rare Beauty draws,
Both in our Wonder fhare, and our Applaufe
His Skill from Time fecures the Glorious Dame
And makes himself Immortal in her Fame.

EPILOGUE

PILOGUE

ΤΟ

ARTUFF,

Spoken by Himself.

By a Perfon of Honour.

Any have been the vain Attempts of Wic Against the still prevailing Hypocrite. nd but once, a Poet got the day, quish'd Bufte in a Puppet-Play; rallying, Arm'd with Zeal and Rage,' he Pulpit, and pull'd down the Stage. at English Knaves is dangerous then, glish Fools will think them Honeft Men

But fure no zealous Brother can deny us
Free leave with this our Monfieur Ananias.

A Man may fay, without being call'd an Athei
There are Damn'd Rogues among the French an
Papift,

That fix Salvation to short Band and Hair,
That Belch and Snuffle to prolong a Pray'r;
That use t'enjoy the Creature, to exprefs
Plain Whoring, Gluttony, and Drunkenness;
And in a decent way perform them too,
As well, nay better far, alas, than you;
Whose Fleshly Failings are but Fornication,
We Godly phrase it, Gospel-Propagation,
Just as Rebellion was call'd Reformation.
Zeal stands but Cent'ry at the Gate of Sin,
Whilst all that have the Word pass freely in
Silent, and in the dark, for fear of Spies,
You march, and take Damnation by furprize.
There's not a roaring Blade in all this Town,
Can go far tow'rds Hell for Half a Crown,

As

As I for Six Pence, for we know the way;
For want of Guides, Men often go aftray:
Therefore give way to what I fhall advise,
Let every Marri'd Man, that's Grave and Wife,
Take a Tartuff, of known Ability,

Who

To Teach, and to Inftruct his Family; may fo fettle lafting Reformation, First get his Son, then give him Education,

THE

THE

Imperfect Enjoyment.

A

By Sir George Etherege.

Fter a pretty amorous Discourse,

She does refift my Love with pleafing
Force;

Moy'd not with Anger, but with Modesty,
Against her Will she is my Enemy.

Her Eyes the rudeness of her Arms excuse,
Whilft thofe accept what these feem to refuse;
To ease my Paffion, and to make me Blest,
Th' obliging Smock falls from her Whiter Breast;
Then with her lovely Hands she does conceal
Those Wonders, Chance fo kindly did reveal;

In