EPILOGUE TO MITHRIDATES, KING OF PONTIUS, BY MR. N. LEE by JOHN DRYDEN

YOU'VE seen a Pair of faithful Lovers die:
And much you care, for most of you will cry,
'Twas a just Judgment on their Constancy.
For, Heaven be thank'd, we live in such an Age,
When no man dies for Love, but on the Stage:
And ev'n those Martyrs are but rare in Plays;
A cursed sign how much true Faith decays:
Love is no more a violent desire;
'Tis a meer Metaphor, a painted Fire.
In all our Sex, the name examin'd well,
Is Pride to gain, and Vanity to tell.
In Woman, 'tis of subtil int'rest made;
Curse on the Punk that made it first a Trade!
She first did Wits Prerogative remove,
And made a Fool presume to prate of Love.
Let Honour and Preferment go for Gold,
But glorious Beauty is not to be sold;
Or, if it be, 'tis at a rate so high,
That nothing but adoring it shou'd buy.
Yet the rich Cullies may their boasting spare;
They purchase but sophisticated Ware.
'Tis Prodigality that buys deceit,
Where both the Giver, and the Taker cheat.
Men but refine on the old Half-Crown way;
And Women fight, like @3Swizzers@1, for their Pay.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...