PROLOGUE TO 'THE PRINCESS OF CLEVES' by JOHN DRYDEN

LADIES! (I hope there's none behind to hear,)
I long to whisper something in your Ear,
A Secret, which does much my Mind perplex:
There's Treason in the Play against our Sex.
A Man that's false to Love, that vows and cheats,
And kisses every living thing he meets!
A Rogue in Mode, I dare not speak too broad,
One that does something to the very Bawd.
Out on him, Traytor, for a filthy Beast!
Nay, and he's like the pack of all the rest:
None of 'em stick at mark; They all deceive.
Some @3Jew@1 has changed the Text, I half believe;
Their @3Adam@1 cozen'd our poor Grandame @3Eve@1.
To hide their Faults they rap out Oaths, and tear;
Now tho' we lye, we're too well-bred to swear.
So we compound for half the Sin we owe,
But men are dipt for Soul and Body too;
And, when found out, excuse themselves, Pox cant 'em,
With Latin stuff, @3perjuria ridet Amantum@1.
I'm not Book Learn'd, to know that word in vogue,
But I suspect 'tis Latin for a Rogue.
I'm sure, I never heard that Schritch-Owl hollow'd
In my poor Ears, but Separation follow'd.
How can such perjur'd Villains e'er be saved?
@3Achitophel's@1 not half so false to @3David@1.
With Vows and soft Expressions to allure,
They stand, like Foremen of a Shop, demure:
No sooner out of sight, but they are gadding,
And for the next new Face ride out a padding.
Yet, by their Favour, when they have bin kissing,
We can perceive the ready Mony missing.
Well! we may rail; but 'tis as good e'en wink;
Something we find, and something they will sink.
But, since they're at renouncing, 'tis our Parts
To trump their Diamonds, & they trump our Hearts.

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