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When tilts and tournaments call'd forth the brave,
The fame of spotless innocence to save,
Each gallant Knight preferr'd his love to life,
For then the greatest blessing was a wife :
To prove their chastity the dauntless fair
Would walk through Aames, nor finge a single hair ;
Nay, some so chatte, so cold to all desire,
Not only 'scap'd it, they put out the fire !
But now no Heroes die for love's sweet pallion,
And fiery Trials are quite out of fashion.
Ye fons of Frailty--- you whom rage devours,
For you this night the Muse exerts her pow'rs;
With crimson hands, pale cheeks, and blood-lhot eyesy,
She bids the furies in their terrors rise !
In valour's breast their scorpion stings they dart,
First fire the brain, and then corrupt the heart.
But what avails all virtue ! Paffion's gust,
Like whirlwinds, drive it from the heart like duft;
When reason dawns, well may repentance mourn
Love, friendship, duty, by the roots up-torn.
To sooth this fatal vice, the flatterer tells
In stormy minds how warmest friendship dwells ;
The tree whose sheltering arms spread kindly round,
If lightning ftruck, lies blafted on the ground;
In vain will merits paft indulgence claim,
One moment's rathness blasts whole years of fame.
то S P L E
Spoken by Mrs. KING,
In the Character of Dr. ANODYNE.
FEMALE doctor, Sirs ! --and pray why not?
from Nature a sole patent got Can you chain down experience, sense, and knowledge (Like madmenin straight waistcoats) to the college Let us prescribe !~our wholesome revolutions Would quickly mend your crazy conftitutions.
Invest a female with a reverend cassock,
What spruce divine would more become the hassock?
Or robe her in a lawyer's gown and band,
What judge fo sweet a pleader could withstand ?
Into St. Stephen's chapel let us go!
What power our aye would have; what force our no!
Try us in all things...there are very few,
We women could not do, as well as you.
Shew me thro' all creation, those who can,
A fiercer tyrant than the tyrant man.
Lion to lioness is calm and civil,
But man with woman--- plays the very devil.
In France, where politejë hould rule the land,
The sceptre's wrested from a female hand.
A spouse in China keeps his brain from madding,
By crippling Dearee's feet to spoil her gadding,
While the grand Turk, lord of a vast seraglio,
Warms the whole house. - himself one great Buzaglo.
Here we're denied the privilege to think,
And scarce allow'd the use of pen and ink.
But mark your playhouse wits, and fairly tell,
If we poor women could not write as well :
Yes, ladies, we have written, and we will ;
No lords, alive, or dead, shall itop our quill.
Break down the fences of a partial tribe,
And let us too prcach, counsel and prescribe!
Firm as Rome's matrons, bold as dames of Sparta,
Let English women form a female Magna Charta;
Asert your rights, you must command success,
And make King John submit to brave Queen Bess.
Ε Ρ Ι L O G J E
M I D A
WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK.
Spoken by Mrs. BARRY.
FEMALE bard, far from her native land,
A female should protect-.-lo! here I stand,
To claim of Chivalry the ancient rites,
And throw my gauntlet at all critic knights !
Nor only for our Auth'ress am I come ;
I rise a champion for the sex at home!
Will shield you, ladies, from the flandring crew,
And prove Greeks, Romans, all must yield to you:
I've read how women, many of condition,
Did, 'ere some conqu’ror storm'd a town, petition,
That each might take a load upon her back,
Out march'd the dames, but carried no itufft fack,
They bore their loving husbands pick-a-pack!
The same domestic zeal has each fair she,
In full perfe&tion at the Colerie ;
For don't they bargain when they quit their houses,
At Pleasure's call, to carry too rheir spouses !
Whereas with you, ye fair ones, shall we fee.
That Roman virtue... hofpitality!
'The foreign artists can your smiles secure,
If he be finger, fidler, or frizeur;
From our dull yawning scenes fatigu'd you go,
And croud to Fantoccini's puppet-fhow;
Each on the foreign things with rapture ftares !
Sweet dears! .--they're more like fles and blood than play'rs!
As what we do, you modishly condemn,
So now turn'd wood and wire, we'll act like them;
Move hands and feet, nay even our tongues a new,
Eh bien Monsieur ! comment vous portez-vous ?
Once more I challenge all the critic knights,
From city jokers, to the wits at White's ;
From daily scribblers, volunteers, or hacks,
Up to those more than mortals at Almacks!
Should any fribble critics dare to dem,
Gads-cuss—I'll throw a chicken glove at them:
And if they shew their teeth, they still will grin---
Let 'em come on--- draw my corking pin!
But should our soldiers, sailors, raise our tears,
They only can be conquer'd by t your tears.
Your smiles may soften, but your tears can melt 'ena,
The bravett, boldest, mightiest men have felt 'em.
Aye, you may sneer, ye wits, your hearts are steel,
I speak of mortals who can fight, and feel !
In peace or war, ye fair, trust only those,
Who love the sex, and always beat their foes.
Stands in a posture of defence. † To the ladies in the boxes.
Will none accept my challenge !...wh
To all the nibbling, scribbling, sland
Who dare not meet a woman face to fa
The Auth'ress and our Sex have gain'
Complete their triumph, give 'em you
TH E CONCLUDING
TO THE M I N o SHIFT, addressing himself to Sir
ND what becomes of your poor
Your father talks of lending me
A great man's promise, when his turn
Capons on promises wou'd soon be starv
No, on myself alone, I'll now rely:
'Gad I've a thriving traffic in my eye-
Near the mad mansions of Moor fields l'!
Friends, fathers, mothers, sisters, fons
Shut up your shops, and listen to my c
With labour, toil, all second means di
And live a rent-charge apon Providence
Prick up your ears ; a story now I'll te
Which once a widow, and her child hel
I knew the mother, and her daughter w
Poor, it is true, they were ; but never
For whatsoe'er they ak’d, was always
One fatal day, the matron's truth was
She wanted meat and drink, and fairly
Child. Mother, you cry!
Moth. Oh, child, I've got no bread.
Child. What matters that ? Why Prov
With reason good, this truth the child I
For there came in, at noon, that very
Bread, greens, potatoes, and a leg of m
A better fure a table ne'er was put on:
Ay, that might be, ye cry, with those
but we ne'er had a rafker for the coals.
eft praise disclaim,
e the doubtful frame,
old the age,
such a rate,
uftly 'hate :
d be pleas'd to fee
ther plays thou'd be:
orna motley scene,
be pleas’d with men."
the times are chang'd,
he city rang'd;
r'd in ftate,
great : ir mind, ot quite refin'd; rformance view, i just and true : ir shou'd be paid, d Shakespear play'd. Il survives; bftance lives. ch may find complete the deceit between; old Ben.
CIBBER, ESQ e at length our own, e are shown; foreign throne. quest share, 's may compare) ng Player.