Volume 8 / Act 5 — EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY PHÆDRA.

I'm thinking, (and it almost makes me mad) How sweet a time those heathen ladies had. Idolatry was even their Gods' own trade: They worshipped the fine creatures they had made. Cupid was chief of all the deities; And love was all the fashion, in the skies. When the sweet nymph held up the lily hand, Jove was her humble servant at command; The treasury of heaven was ne'er so bare, But still there was a pension for the fair. In all his reign, adultery was no sin; For Jove the good example did begin. Mark, too, when he usurped the husband's name, How civilly he saved the lady's fame. The secret joys of love he wisely hid; But you, sirs, boast of more than e'er you did. You teaze your cuckolds, to their face torment 'em; But Jove gave his new honours to content him, And, in the kind remembrance of the fair, On each exalted son bestowed a star. For these good deeds, as by the date appears, His godship flourished full two thousand years. } { At last, when he and all his priests grew old, { The ladies grew in their devotion cold; { And that false worship would no longer hold. Severity of life did next begin; And always does, when we no more can sin. That doctrine, too, so hard in practice lies, That the next age may see another rise. } { Then, pagan gods may once again succeed: { And Jove, or Mars, be ready, at our need, { To get young godlings; and so mend our breed.