The Raillery.
As innocent as if't had pass'd the test
Of a full synod: not one bawdy jest!
Nor any of those words of double sense,
Which make the ladies, to show their innocence,
Look so demure, whilst by a simp'ring smile
The gallant shows he understands the style.
But here you have a piece so subtly writ,
Men must have wit themselves to find the wit.
Faith, that's too much; therefore by my consent,
We'll damn the play.
Henrique. Think'st thou, impertinent,
That these, who know the pangs of bringing forth
[Pointing to the Pit.
A living scene, should e'er destroy this birth?
You ne'er can want such writers, who aspire
To please the judges of that upper tier.
The knowing are his peers, and for the rest
Of the illiterate crowd (though finely dress'd),
The author hopes he never gave them cause
To think he'd waste his time for their applause.
You then (most equal judges) freely give
Your votes, whether this play should die or live.
THE EPILOGUE AT COURT.
We've pass'd the lords and commons, and are come
At length, dread sir, to hear your final doom.
'Tis true your vassals, sir, may vote the laws.
Their sanction comes from your divine applause.
This shining circle then will all sit mute
'Till one pronounce from you Le Roi le veut.[72]
[72] These are the words still used by ancient usage whenever the royal assent is given to any bill that has passed through both Houses of Parliament.—Collier.