Scorning religion all thy life time past, And now embracing popery at last, Is like thyself; & what thou’st done before Defying wife and marrying a whore. Alas! how leering Hereticks will laugh To see a gray old hedge bird caught with chaffe. A Poet too from great heroick theames And inspiration, fallen to dreaming dreams. But this the priests will get by thee at least That if they mend thee, miracles are not ceast. For ‘tis not more to cure the lame & blind, Than heal an impious ulcerated mind. This if they do, and give thee but a grain Of common honesty, or common shame, ‘Twill be more credit to their cause I grant, Than ‘twould to make another man a saint. But thou noe party ever shalt adorn, To thy own shame & Nature’s scandall borne: All shun alike thy ugly outward part, Whilest none have right or title to thy heart. Resolved to stand & constant to the time, Fix’d in thy lewdness, settled in thy crime. Whilest Moses with the Israelites abode, Thou seemdst content to worship Moses’ God: But since he went & since thy master fell, Thou foundst a golden calf would do as well. And when another Moses shall arise Once more I know thou’lt rub and clear thy eyes, And turn to be an Israelite again, } For when the play is done & finisht clean, } What should the Poet doe but shift the scene. } VALENTINIAN. _Prologue spoken by Mrs._ Cook _the first Day._ _Written by Mrs._ Behn. [Sidenote: The Fair on the _Thames_ so called.]