disown.
Though now, perhaps, ye're here for other ends,
He swears to me ye ought to be his friends:
For he ne'er call'd ye yet insipid tools,
Nor wrote one line to tell ye you were fools;
But says of wit ye have so large a store,
So very much you never will have more.
He ne'er with libel treated yet the town,
The names of honest men bedaub'd and shown.
Nay, never once lampoon'd the harmless life
Of suburb virgin, or of city wife.
Satire's th' effect of poetry's disease, }
Which, sick of a lewd age, she vents for ease, }
But now her only strife should be to please; }
Since of ill fate the baneful cloud's withdrawn,
And happiness again begins to dawn,
Since back with joy and triumph he is come,
That always drew fears hence, ne'er brought 'em home.
Oft has he plough'd the boist'rous ocean o'er, }
Yet ne'er more welcome to the longing shore, }
Not when he brought home victories before; }
For then fresh laurels flourish'd on his brow;
And he comes crown'd with olive-branches now;
Receive him--oh, receive him as his friends,
Embrace the blessing which he recommends:
Such quiet as your foes shall ne'er destroy;
Then shake off fears, and clap your hands for joy.

Epilogue.

SPOKEN BY SERINA.

You've seen one orphan ruin'd here; and I
May be the next, if old Acasto die:
Should it prove so, I'd fain amongst you find
Who 'tis would to the fatherless be kind.
To whose protection might I safely go?
Is there among you no good nature? No.
What shall I do? Should I the godly seek,
And go a conventicling twice a week?
Quit the lewd stage, and its profane pollution, }
Affect each form and saint-like institution; }
So draw the brethren all to contribution? }
Or shall I (as I guess the poet may
Within these three days) fairly run away?
No; to some city lodgings I'll retire;
Seem very grave, and privacy desire;
Till I am thought some heiress, rich in lands,
Fled to escape a cruel guardian's hands;
Which may produce a story worth the telling,
Of the next sparks that go a fortune stealing.

Maurice,
Fenchurch-street.

Transcriber's note:

Two changes have been made to the text:

Act 3, scene 1: In the conversation between Chamont and the Chaplain,
the speech beginning "Not knowing what reception it may find" was
assigned to the Chaplain (_Chap._) rather than to Chamont (_Cham._), in
keeping with the dialogue sequence.

Act 4, scene 1: Monimia's line "Ill ever live