No more your Queen, but upright judge I come,
To try your deeds abroad, your lives at home;
Try you in ev'ry point, from fmall to great,

Your Wit,-Laws,-Fabions,-Valor,-Church and
State !-

Search you, as Britons ne'er were fearch'd before:
"O tremble! for you hear the lion roar!"
Since that most glorious time that here I reign'd,
An age and half!-What have you loft or gain'd?
Your Wit-Whate'er your Poets fing or fwear;
Since Shakespeare's time is fomewhat worse for wear.
Your Laws are good, your Lawyers good of course;
The ftreams are furely clear, when clear the fource:
In greater store these bleflings now are sent ye;
Where I had one attorney, you have twenty.
Fafbions, ye fair, deserve nor praise nor blame;
Unless they rife as foes to sense or shame;
Wear ruffs, or gauze-But let your skill be fuch,
Rather to fhew too little, than too much.
As for your Valour-here my lips I clofe

Let those who beft have prov'd it-fpeak-Your foes,
Your Morals, Church, and State, are still behind-
But foft-prophet c fury fills my mind!-

I fee thro' time-Behold a youthful hand,
Holding the fceptre of this happy land;

Whose heart with justice, love, and virtue fraught
Born amongst Britons, and by Britons taught;
Shall make the barking tongues of faction cease,
And weave the garland of domestic peace:
Long fhail he reign-no ftorms to beat his breast,
Unruly paffions that disturb'd my reft!
Shall live, the blessings he bestows, to share,
Reap all my glory, but without my care..

EPILOGUE

то THE

DOUBLE

MISTAKE.

Spoken by Mifs WILFORD, in the Characer of Lady LOUISA.

I

Had an Epilogue to speak to-night,

But I'm fo hurried, put in fuch a fright,
Deuce take me!-if I han't forgot it quite.

To fee my name in first night's play-bill printed,
A character quite new, in time quite ftinted;
An Epilogue, befides, to get by heart,
'Tis moft unmerciful, too long a part-
But they fo coax'd and wheedled me to duty,
Left I should fret-for fretting fpoils one's beauty,
That, in obedience to the kind command,
A fuppliant to your favour, here I stand:
And hope, instead of what had been prepar'd,
My own extempore may now be heard.

Well! I have had a great efcape, I own,
From being made the jeft of all the town;
For from the court end I could claim no pity,
Nor had I more to hope for, from the city;
Such matches rarely anfwer either fide,
For induftry is fuited il with pride.

But, to divert your cenfure, let me fhew
A folly more compleat, a city beau!

What contraft can there be fo ftrong in nature,
As English plai nefs apeing petit-matre!
And yet poor I, by miffing fuch a lover,
May wait, 'till all my dancing days are over!
Next, fhift the scene- behold a virtuofo!

An old illiterate, feeble amorofo!

What weakness can the human heart discover,
More fhameful, than a climacteric lover?
Men, who have turn'd the period of threescore,
Become more virtuofo's-in amour.

Nor does Aunt Bridget merit better quarter,
Who, fcorning to abide by female charter,

}

Invades

Invades a province, to our fex deny'd,
Aiming at knowledge with a pedant's pride;
When, after all our boaft, we find, at length,
To know our weakness is our fureft ftrength,
One path of fcience only, wife men say,
Is left for female learning-to obey.--

If characters like thefe your mirth excite,
And furnish fome amusement for the night,
If nought offend the maxims of the stage,
Or fhock the nicer morals of the age,
If only venial errors here you find,

Critics be dumb-ye Men of Candour, kind.

[Curthying.

E PIL

OGUE

то

OP E.

I'M

MER

Spoken by Mrs. PRITCHARD.

'M glad with all my heart, I've feap'd my weddingGlad! cry the maids ?. -Heaven keep fuch joy from Spreading!

Marriage, (poor things) don't move their heart fo coldly.
'Tis a dark leap, they own-but, love jumps boldly.—
Fair fall th' advent'rers! I'm no hufband-hater,-
Only, be warn'd by me, and wed no TRAITOR.
Pain hunting murm'rer! born, to growl, and grumble!
No King can please him,-and no Wife can humble!
Sick to the foul, be HEAVEN his kind Phyfician!
Earth's ableit drugs are left, upon ambition.

All Warwick-lane falls fhort; and, to my knowledge,
No cure is hop'd for, in our female college.

Shun plotting-beads, dear Ladies ! — all mifcarries, When one, who bums and haws at midnight, MARRIES. Better, plain, downright, DUNCE- no dream, purfuing: One that means bluntly-and knows, what he's doing! Not him, whofe factious mind, outfouring pleasure, Is still most tu, when his wife's at leifure.

Better, a portfman, found of wind, and heartyBetter, Sir Set,-than fpoufe dry drunk, with party!

A

A hunting husband hallows-and you HEAR him.-
A drunken deary flag-gers-and you STEER him.-
Each confcicus of his Wife, takes care, to make her,
One way or other-an indulg'd partaker.

But, your fage, faturnine, ambitious lover,
Keeps no one fecret, woman wou'd difcover.
Stranger at home, he trolls abroad, for bleffing;
And holds what'er he has not worth poffeffing.
Freedom, and mirth, and health, and joy,-defpifes!
And fcorns all KEST-he, fo pro-found-ly wISE is!
At length, thank Heav'n! he DIES: kind vapours
ftrike him:

And leaves behind,-ten thousand madmen, like him.

PROLOGUE

то

CENTLIVRE'S

GAMESTER.

WRITTEN BY N. ROWE, ESQ.

Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON.

F humble wives that drag the marriage chain
With curfed dogged hulbands, may complain;
If turn'd at large to flarve, as we by you,
They may, at leaft, for alimony fue.

Know, we refolve to make the cafe our own,
Between the Plaintiff Stage, and the Defendant-Town.
When firft you took us from our Father's house,
And lovingly our intereft did efpoufe;
You kept us fine, carefs'd, and lodg'd us here,
And honey-moon held out above three year.
At length, for pleafures known do feldom laft,
Frequent enjoyments pall'd your fprightly tafte;
And though at firft you did not quite neglect,
We found your love was dwindled to respect;
Sometimes, indeed, as in your way it fell,
You ftopp'd, and call'd to fee if we were well.
Now, quite eftrang'd, this wretched place you fhun,
Like bad wine, bulinefs, duels, or a dun?
Have we for this increas'd Apollo's race?
Been often pregnant with your wit's embrace?
And borne you many chopping babes of grace?

}

Some

Some ugly toads we had, and that's the curfe,,
They were fo like you that they far'd the worfe;
For this to-night we are not much in pain,
Look on't, and, if you like it, entertain;
If all the midwife fays of it be true,

There are some features, too, like some of you;
For us, if you think fitting to forsake it,
We mean to run away, and let the Parish take it.

PROLOGUE

ΤΟ THE

CHOLERI C

IN

MAN.

WRITTEN BY MR. CUMBERLAND.

Spoken by Mr. SMITH.

N Athens once, as claffic ftory runs,
Thalia number'd fifty living fons;

But mark the wafte of time's destructive hand,
One bard furvives of all this numerous band;
Yet human genius feem'd as 'twou'd defy
Time's utmost rage by its variety;

For 'twas no wond'rous harveft, in thofe days,
From one rich stock to reap a hundred plays.
Ah! could we bring but one of these to light,
We'd give a hundred fuch as this to-night.
Rome from her captive took the law fhe gave,
And was at once her mistress and her flave;
Greece from her fall immortal triumphs drew,
And prov'd her tutelar Minerva true:
She, goddefs-like, confiding in her charms,
To Mars refign'd the barren toil of arms,
Full well affur'd, when these vain toils were paft,
That wit must triumph over ftrength at last ;
Then fmiling faw her Athens meet its doom,
And crown'd her in the theatres of Rome;
Nor murmur'd Rome to fee her Terence fhod
With the fame fock in which Menander trod,
Nor Lælius fcorn'd, nor Scipio blush'd to fit,
And join their plaudits to Athenian wit.

Micio's