The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 08Dryden, John
General
The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 08
Dryden, John
English drama -- 17th century
_Gar._ [_To_ VER.] Make me but blest in Celidea's love;
She saved my life, and hers it is for ever.
'Tis pity she, who gained another's cause,
Should lose her own.
_Vera._ [_Presenting_ CEL.] She's yours.
_Cel._ My joys are full.
_Vict._ And mine o'erflow.
_Alph._ And mine are all a soul can bear, and live.
_Vera._ Then seek we out Ramirez,
To make him partner of this happy day,
That gives him back his crown and his Alphonso.
_Ram._ Behold me here, unsought, with some few friends.
[_Taking off his vizard._
Resolved to save my son, or perish with him,
Thus far I traced, and followed him unknown;
And here have waited, with a beating heart,
To see this blest event.
_Vera._ Just like the winding up of some design,
Well-formed, upon the crowded theatre;
Where all concerned surprisingly are pleased,
And what they wish see done. Lead to the temple:
Let thanks be paid; and heaven be praised no less
For private union, than for public peace. [_Exeunt._
EPILOGUE.
SPOKEN BY DALINDA.
Now, in good manners, nothing should be said
Against this play, because the poet's dead[61].
The prologue told us of a moral here:
Would I could find it! but the devil knows where.
If in my part it lies, I fear he means
To warn us of the sparks behind our scenes.
For, if you'll take it on Dalinda's word,
'Tis a hard chapter to refuse a lord.
The poet might pretend this moral too,--
That when a wit and fool together woo,
The damsel (not to break an antient rule)
Should leave the wit, and take the wealthy fool.
This he might mean: but there's a truth behind, }
And, since it touches none of all our kind }
But masks and misses, 'faith, I'll speak my mind. }
What if he taught our sex more cautious carriage,
And not to be too coming before marriage;
For fear of my misfortune in the play,
A kid brought home upon the wedding day?
I fear there are few Sancho's in the pit,
So good as to forgive, and to forget;
That will, like him, restore us into favour,
And take us after on our good behaviour.
Few, when they find the money-bag is rent,
Will take it for good payment on content.
But in the telling, there the difference is,
Sometimes they find it more than they could wish.
Therefore be warned, you misses and you masks,
Look to your hits, nor give the first that asks.
Tears, sighs, and oaths, no truth of passion prove;
True settlement, alone, declares true love.
For him that weds a puss, who kept her first,
I say but little, but I doubt the worst.
The wife, that was a cat, may mind her house, }
And prove an honest, and a careful spouse; }
But 'faith I would not trust her with a mouse. }
FOOTNOTES:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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