Amphitryon

Epilogue

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.