Upon her Play being returned to Her Stained with Claret

WELCOME, dear wanderer, once more!

Thrice welcome to thy native cell!

Within this peaceful humble door

Let thou and I contented dwell!

But say, O whither hast thou rang’d?

Why dost thou blush a crimson hue?

Thy fair complexion ’s greatly chang’d:

Why, I can scarce believe ’tis you.

Then tell, my son, O tell me, where

Didst thou contract this sottish dye?

You kept ill company, I fear,

When distant from your parent’s eye.

Was it for this, O graceless child,

Was it for this you learn’d to spell?

Thy face and credit both are spoil’d;

Go drown thyself in yonder well.

I wonder how thy time was spent:

No news (alas!) hast thou to bring?

Hast thou not climb’d the Monument?

Nor seen the lions, nor the King?

But now I’ll keep you here secure:

No more you view the smoaky sky:

The court was never made (I’m sure)

For idiots, like thee and I.