Epilogue to "Amphitryon; or, The Two Sosias"

I 'm thinking (and it almost makes me mad)
How sweet a time those heathen ladies had.
Idolatry was ev'n their gods' own trade;
They worship'd 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 heav'n was ne'er so bare,
But still there was a pension for the fair.
In all his reign adult'ry was no sin,
For Jove the good example did begin.
Mark, too, when he usurp'd the husband's name,
How civilly he sav'd the lady's fame.
The secret joys of love he wisely hid;
But you, sirs, boast of more than e'er you did.
You tease your cuckolds; to their face torment 'em:
But Jove gave his new honors to content 'em;
And, in the kind remembrance of the fair,
On each exalted son bestow'd a star.
For those good deeds, as by the date appears,
His godship flourish'd 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.