EPILOGUE TO TARTUFF, Spoken by Himself,

MAny have been the vain attempts of Wit
Against the still-prevailing Hypocrite:
Once, and but once, a Poet got the day,
And vanquish'd Busy in a Puppet-play:
But Busy rallying, arm'd with zeal, and rage,
Possest the Pulpit, and pull'd down the Stage.
To laugh at English Knaves is dang'rous then,
While English Fools will think them honest Men:
But sure no zealous Brother can deny us
Free leave with this our Monsieur Ananias.
A Man may say, without being call'd an Atheist,
There are Damn'd Rogues among the French and Papist
That fix Salvation to short band and Hair,
That belch and snuffle to prolong a Pray'r?
That use t'enjoy the Creature to express
Plain VVhoring, Gluttony, and Drunkenness?
And in a decent way perform them too,
As well, nay better far, alas, then you;
Whose fleshly failings are but Fornication,
We godly phrase it, Gospel-Propagation,
Just as Rebellion was call'd Reformation.
Zeal stands but Centr'y at the Gate of Sin,
Whilst all that have the Word pass freely in
Silent, and in the dark, for fear of Spies,
You march, and take Damnation by surprize,
There's not a roaring Blade in all this Town
Can go so far tow'rds Hell for half a Crown,
As I for six Pence, for we know the way;
For want of Guides Men often go astray:
Therefore give ear to what I shall advise,
Let every married Man, that's grave and wise,
Take a Tartuff, of known ability,
To teach and to instruct his Family,
Who may so settle lasting Reformation,
First get his Son, then give him Education.