Spoken by Capt.Griffin.
Youdread Reformers of an impious Age,}You awful Cat-o'-nine Tails to the Stage,}This once be just, and in our Cause engage.}To gain your Favour, we your Rules obey,}And treat you with a moral Piece to-day;}So moral, we're afraid 'twill damn the Play.}For tho' y' ave long been leagu'd (as People tell)To reduce the Power exorbitant of Hell;No Troops you send, t' abate it in this Field,But leave us still expos'd, to starve or yield.Your Scouts, indeed, sometimes come stealing in,T' observe this formidable Camp of Sin,And whisper, if we'll piously declare,What Aids you then will send, to help us thro' the War.To this we answer, We're a feeble State,}And cannot well afford to love or hate,}So shou'd not meddle much in your Debate.}But, since your Cause is good, thus far we'll go,WhenPortugaldeclares, we'll do so too.Our Cases, as we think, are much alike,And on the same Conditions, we should strike;Send to their Aid a hundred Men of War,To ours, a hundred Squadrons of the Fair;Rig out your Wives and Daughters all around,(I mean, wh' are fit for Service, tight and sound)And, for a Proof our Meaning is sincere,}See but the Ships are good, and if you fear}A Want of Equipage, we'll mann them here.}These are the Terms on which you may engageThe Poet's Fire, to batter from the Stage:Useful Ally! whose Friendship lets you in,Upon the weak and naked Side of Sin.Against your old Attack, the Foe's prepar'd,Well fortify'd, and always on his Guard;The sacred Shot you send are flung in vain;}By Impious Hands, with insolent Disdain,}They're gather'd up, and fir'd at you again.}Thro' baffled Toils, and unsuccessful Cares,}In Slaughter, Blood and Wounds, and pious Snares,}Y' ave made aFlandersWar these fifteen hundred Years.}Change then your Scheme, if you'll your Foe annoy,And the infernalBajazetdestroy;Our Aid accept,W' ave gentler Stratagems which may succeed;We'll tickle 'em where you'd make 'em bleed:In Sounds less harsh, we'll teach 'em to obey;}In softer Strains the evil Spirit lay,}And steal Immorality away.}
Youdread Reformers of an impious Age,}You awful Cat-o'-nine Tails to the Stage,}This once be just, and in our Cause engage.}To gain your Favour, we your Rules obey,}And treat you with a moral Piece to-day;}So moral, we're afraid 'twill damn the Play.}For tho' y' ave long been leagu'd (as People tell)To reduce the Power exorbitant of Hell;No Troops you send, t' abate it in this Field,But leave us still expos'd, to starve or yield.Your Scouts, indeed, sometimes come stealing in,T' observe this formidable Camp of Sin,And whisper, if we'll piously declare,What Aids you then will send, to help us thro' the War.To this we answer, We're a feeble State,}And cannot well afford to love or hate,}So shou'd not meddle much in your Debate.}But, since your Cause is good, thus far we'll go,WhenPortugaldeclares, we'll do so too.Our Cases, as we think, are much alike,And on the same Conditions, we should strike;Send to their Aid a hundred Men of War,To ours, a hundred Squadrons of the Fair;Rig out your Wives and Daughters all around,(I mean, wh' are fit for Service, tight and sound)And, for a Proof our Meaning is sincere,}See but the Ships are good, and if you fear}A Want of Equipage, we'll mann them here.}These are the Terms on which you may engageThe Poet's Fire, to batter from the Stage:Useful Ally! whose Friendship lets you in,Upon the weak and naked Side of Sin.Against your old Attack, the Foe's prepar'd,Well fortify'd, and always on his Guard;The sacred Shot you send are flung in vain;}By Impious Hands, with insolent Disdain,}They're gather'd up, and fir'd at you again.}Thro' baffled Toils, and unsuccessful Cares,}In Slaughter, Blood and Wounds, and pious Snares,}Y' ave made aFlandersWar these fifteen hundred Years.}Change then your Scheme, if you'll your Foe annoy,And the infernalBajazetdestroy;Our Aid accept,W' ave gentler Stratagems which may succeed;We'll tickle 'em where you'd make 'em bleed:In Sounds less harsh, we'll teach 'em to obey;}In softer Strains the evil Spirit lay,}And steal Immorality away.}