CLEOMENS, OR THE SPARTAN HERO: EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN

This day, the Poet, bloodily inclin'd,
Has made me die, full sore against my Mind!
Some of you naughty Men, I fear, will cry,
Poor Rogue! would I might teach thee how to die!
Thanks for your Love; but I sincerely say,
I never mean to die your wicked way.
Well, since it is decreed all Flesh must go,
(And I am Flesh, at least, for aught you know,)
I first declare, I die with pious Mind,
In perfect Charity with all Mankind.
Next, for my Will: -- I have in my Dispose
Some certain Moveables would please you Beaux;
As, first, my Youth; for, as I have been told,
Some of you, modish Sparks, are devilish old.
My Chastity I need not leave among ye:
For to suspect old Fops were much to wrong ye.
You swear you're Sinners; but for all your Haste,
Your Misses shake their Heads, and find you chaste.
I give my Courage to those bold Commanders,
That stay with us, and dare not go for @3Flanders.@1
I leave my Truth (to make his Plot more clear)
To Mr. @3Fuller@1, when he next shall swear.
I give my Judgment, craving all your Mercies,
To those that leave good Plays, for damn'd dull Farces.
My small Devotion let the Gallants share,
That come to ogle us at Evening Pray'r.
I give my Person -- let me well consider,
Faith e'en to him that is the fairest Bidder;
To some rich Hunks, if any be so bold
To say those dreadful Words, @3To have and hold.@1
But stay -- to give, and be bequeathing still,
When I'm so poor, is just like @3Wickham's@1 Will:
Like that notorious Cheat, vast Sums I give,
Only that you may keep me while I live.
Buy a good Bargain, Gallants, while you may;
I'll cost you but your Half-a-Crown a Day.

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