149:28,000['  ]| <As Charms are Nonsence>
149:28,000['  ]| <(This epilogue appears with Fane's play in 1675 without any indication>
149:28,000['  ]| <that he is not the author. The play is dedicated to Rochester who is>
149:28,000['  ]| <said to have made corrections.  The epilogue is given to him in>
149:28,000['  ]| <Tonson's 1691 edition; but this may be a guess.  Paul Hopkins has>
149:28,000['  ]| <found a copy with additional lines written in.  One question that may>
149:28,000['  ]| <not be answerable is whether they are by the same author as the rest. >
149:28,000['  ]| <The other is whether the whole thing is by Rochester or by Fane (not>
149:28,000['  ]| <much to go on in the latter case I realise.)>
149:28,000['  ]| <EPILOGUE,>
149:28,000['  ]| <As it was spoke by Mr. Haines.>
149:28,001[A  ]| AS Charms are Nonsense, Nonsense seems a Charm,
149:28,002[A  ]| Which$6#1$ hearers of all Judgment does disarm;
149:28,003[A  ]| For$4$ Songs and Scenes, a double Audience bring,
149:28,004[A  ]| And Doggerel takes, which$6#1$ two eyed Cyclops sing.
149:28,005[A  ]| Now to$4$ Machines, and a dull Mask you run,
149:28,006[A  ]| We find that$3$ Wit is the Monster you would shun,
149:28,007[A  ]| And by$4$ my troth it is most discreetly done.
149:28,008[A  ]| For$3$ since, with Vice and Folly, Wit is fed,
149:28,009[A  ]| Through Mercy it is, most of you are not dead.
149:28,010[A  ]| Players turn Puppets now at your desire,   <10>
149:28,011[A  ]| In$4$ their Mouths Nonsense, in$4$ their Tails a Wire,
149:28,012[A  ]| They fly through Clouds of Clouts, and showers of Fire.
149:28,013[A  ]| A kind of loosing Loadum is their Game,
149:28,014[A  ]| Where the worst Writer has the greatest Fame.
149:28,015[A  ]| To$9$ get vile Plays like$4$ theirs, shall be our care;
149:28,016[A  ]| But of such awkward Actors we despair.
149:28,017[A  ]| False taught at first   
149:28,018[A  ]| Like$4$ Bowls ill biased, still the more they run,
149:28,019[A  ]| They are further off, than when they first begun.
149:28,020[A  ]| In$4$ Comedy their unweighed Action mark,   <20>
149:28,021[A  ]| There is one is such a dear familiar spark, 
149:28,022[A  ]| He yawns, as if he were but half awake;
149:28,023[A  ]| And fribbling for$4$ free speaking, does mistake. 
149:28,024[A  ]| False accent and neglectful Action too 
149:28,025[A  ]| They have both so$5#1$ near good, yet neither true,
149:28,026[A  ]| That$3$ both together, like$4$ an Ape's mock face
149:28,027[A  ]| By$4$ near resembling Man, do Man disgrace. 
149:28,028[A  ]| Thorough paced ill Actors, may perhaps be cured, 
149:28,029[A  ]| Half Players like$4$ half Wits, can not be endured. 
149:28,030[A  ]| Yet these are they, who$6#1$ durst expose the Age   <30> 
149:28,031[A  ]| Of the great Wonder of our English Stage. 
149:28,032[A  ]| Whom Nature seemed to$9$ form for$4$ your delight, 
149:28,033[A  ]| And bid him speak, as she bid Shakespeare write. 
149:28,034[A  ]| Those Blades indeed are Cripples in$4$ their Art 
149:28,035[A  ]| Mimic his Foot, but not his speaking part. 
149:28,036[A  ]| Let them the Traitor or Volpone try, 
149:28,037[A  ]| Could they ~~ 
149:28,038[A  ]| Rage like$4$ Cethegus, or like$4$ Cassius die, 
149:28,039[A  ]| They never had sent to$4$ Paris for$4$ such Fancies, 
149:28,040[A  ]| As Monster's heads, and Merry Andrew's Dances.   <40> 
149:28,041[A  ]| Withered perhaps, not perished we appear, 
149:28,042[A  ]| But they were blighted, and never came to$9$ bear. 
149:28,043[A  ]| The old Poets dressed your Mistress Wit before, 
149:28,044[A  ]| These draw you on$5$ with an old Painted Whore,
149:28,045[A  ]| And sell like$4$ Bawds, patched Plays for$4$ Maids twice over. 
149:28,000['  ]| <New lines found by Paul Hopkins ~~ do they fit?> 
149:28,046[B  ]| Old wit we have; they on$4$ the new may live 
149:28,047[B  ]| Of their own Poet At-all Positive. 
149:28,048[B  ]| To$4$ Epsom Wells 
149:28,049[B  ]| It is known his interlining friends lent wit. 
149:28,050[B  ]| Some doubt if he writ that$6#2$; all grant he writ   <50> 
149:28,051[B  ]| The humorists, the Shepherdess and hypocrite; 
149:28,052[B  ]| And by$4$ the Style of Tempest Mask we know 
149:28,053[B  ]| That$3$ none but he could write the Psyche too. 
149:28,054[B  ]| Each day now adds new vigour to$4$ his pen,
149:28,055[B  ]| Since Samson like$4$ his locks are grown again. 
149:28,056[B  ]| Such Wit with us must needs be Scarce and Dear, 
149:28,057[B  ]| Unless he would write another Miser here. 
149:28,058[B  ]| But hold! our wishes need not make such haste: 
149:28,059[B  ]| Our House was burnt for$4$ playing of his last. 
149:28,000['  ]| <end of new lines> 
149:28,060[A  ]| Yet they may scorn our House and Actors too,   <60> 
149:28,061[A  ]| Since they have swelled so$5#1$ high to$9$ hector you. 
149:28,062[A  ]| They cry, 
149:28,062@w   | Pox of these Covent Garden Men, 
149:28,063@w   | Damn them, not one of them, but keeps out Ten. 
149:28,064@w   | Were they once gone, we for$4$ those thundering Blades,
149:28,065@w   | Should have an Audience of substantial Trades, 
149:28,066@w   | Who$6#1$ love our muzzled Boys, and tearing Fellows, 
149:28,067@w   | My Lord great Neptune, and great Nephew Aeolus. 
149:28,068[A  ]| Oh how the merry Citizen is in$4$ love 
149:28,069[A  ]| With 
149:28,070[A  ]| Psyche, the Goddess of each Field and Grove.   <70> 
149:28,071[A  ]| He cries in$4$ faith, 
149:28,071@c   | methinks it is well enough, 
149:28,072[A  ]| But you roar out and cry, 
149:28,072@d   | It is all damned stuff. 
149:28,073[A  ]| So$3$ to$4$ their House the graver Fops repair, 
149:28,074[A  ]| Whilst Men of Wit, find one another here.
149:28,000['  ]| <FINIS.>