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A Princefs, with a page, and fweeping train,
A bowl, a dagger, and a lover flain!

O, how I'll rant! how loud I'll be! and glibber
Than Yates, or Pritchard, Bellamy, or Cibber?
If for the Bufkin you object my Size,

Why Garrick's little-but has piercing eyes.
And fo have I-But I'm too young, you'll fay.
Ah, Sirs! I fhall grow older ev'ry day:

And they that now my faint endeavours fpare,
Mifs in her teens fhall thank them for their care.

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Ο

WRITTEN BY COLLY CIBBER, ESQ.

Spoken by Mrs. RAFTOR.

UR Author's fure bewitch'd! The fenfelefs Rogu:
Infifts no good play wants an Epilogue.

Suppofe that true, faid 1, what's that to this?

Is yours a good one?—No, but Moliere's is,
He cry'd, And zɔu cs! no Epilogue was tack'd to his.
Befides, your moden Epilogues, faid he,

Are but ragouts of fmut and ribaldry.
Where the falfe jefts are dwindled to fo few,
'There's scarce one double Entendre left that's new.
Nor wou'd I in that lovely circle rife

One blush, to gain a thoufand Coxcombs praife.
Then for the thread-bare joke of Cit and Wit,
Whofe fore-known rhyme is echo'd from the Pit,
Till of their laugh the Galleries are bit.
Then to reproach the Criticks with ill-nature,
And charge their malice to his ftinging fatyr:
And thence appealing to the nicer Boxes,
Tho' talking fuff might dafh the Drury Doxes.
If thefe, he cry'd, the choice ingredients be
For Epilogues, they shall have none for me.
Lord, Sir, fays I; the Gallery will fo bawl;
Let 'em, he cry'd, a bad one's worse than none at ali.

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Madait,

Madam, these things than you I am more expert in,
Nor do I fee no Epilogue much hurt in,

Zounds! when the Play is ended-drop the Curtain.

EPILOGUE

то THE

CITIZ

E N.

Spoken by Mr. SHUTER and Mr. WOODWARD, in the Characters of Old PHILPOT and Young PHILPOT.

Geo.

Father.

H! George, George, George! 'tis fuch rakes as you,
Who bring vile jokes and foul dishonour too
Upon our city youth.

'Tis very true.

No place for me.

Fath. St. James's end o' th' town,
Geo.
Fath. No, truly no-their manners difagree
With ours intirely-yet you there must run

Το ape their follies,

Geo.

Fath. There you all learn a vanity in vice,
You turn mere fops, you game-

Geo.

Fath. Bubbl'd at play,

Geo.

Faib.

And fo am undone.

O, damn the dice!

Yes, Sir.

By ev'ry common cheat.

Geo. Ay! here's too witnesses
Fatb.

Geo. A witnefs too of that
there's another.

Fath. You dare to give affronts,
Geo.

Fath. Affronts to gentlemen!
GEO.

[Pulling out his pockets. You get well beat. [fhers his head] and [To Young Wilding.

Zounds, fuch a pother!

"Twas a rash action.

Fath. Damn me, you lie; I give you fatisfaction.

[mimicking.

Drawn in by ftrumpets-and detected too! Geo. That's a fad thing, Sir! I'll be judg'd by you.

Fath. The

Think you it right?

Fath. The dog he has me there,

Geo.

Under a table.

Fath.

Miferable plight!

Gao. For grave threefcore to fculk with trembling knees,, And envy every lover whom he fees!

Think you it fitting thus abroad to roam?

Fath. Would I had taid to caft accounts at home;

Geo. Ay; there's another vice.

Fath.

Sirrah, give o'er,

Geo. You brood for ever-o'er your most lov'd store,
And scraping cent. per cent. ftill pine for more.
At Jonathan's, where millions are undone,
Now cheat a nation, and now cheat your fon.

Fath. Rafcal, enough!.

Gio.
I could add, but am loth..
Fath. Enough!-this jury will condemn us both..

[To the audience..
Go. Then to the court we'd better make submission:
Ladies and Gentlemen, with true contrition,
I here repent my faults:ye courtly train,
Farewell! farewell, ye giddy and ye vain!
I now take up-forfake the gay and witty,
To live, henceforth, a credit to the city.
Fath. You fee me here, quite cover'd o'er with fhame; ;
I hate long speeches-but I'll do the fame.

Come, George-to mend is all the best can boast.. Gro. Then let us in,..

Fath.

Geo.

And this fhall be our toast,*.
May Britain's thun ler on her foes be hurl'd,
And London prove the market of the world.

PRO L O G U E.
то THE

SPANISH BAR BE R.

WRITTEN BY MR. COLMAN...

Spoken by Mr. PARSONS.

NCE more from Ludgate-hill behold Paul Prig!!
The Lime Spruce air you fee! faine.coat! faine

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A Mercer, fmart and dapper all allow,
As ever at fhop-door fhot off a bow.
This fummer for I love a little prance-
This Summer, Gentlefolks, I've been to France,
To mark the fashions-and to learn to dance,
I, and dear Mrs. Prig-the first of graces!
At Calais, in the diligence, took places;
Travell'd thro' Boulogne, Amiens, and Chantilly,
All in a line-as ftraight as Piccadilly!

To Paris come, their dreffes made me stare-
Their fav'rite colour is the French Queen's Hair!
They're all fo fine, so fhabby, and to gay,
They look like chimney-fweepers on May-day!
Silks of all colours in the rainbow there!
A Jofeph's coat appears the common wear.
Of fome I brought home patterns; one to-night
We mean to fhew-'tis true it is but flight,
But then for fummer wear, you know that's right.
A little Weaver, whom I long have known,
Has work'd it up, and begs to have it fhewn-
But pray obferve, my friends-'tis not his own.
I brought it over-nay, if it mifcarries,

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He'll cry 'tis none of mine-it came from Paris."
But fhou'd you like it, he'll foon let

you know 'Twas fpun and manufactur'd in Scho.

'Thad a great run abroad; which always yields
Work for our Grub ftreet, and our Spitalfields.
France charms our Ladies, naked Bards and Beaux,
Who fmuggle thence their learning and their cloaths;
Buckles like grid-irons, and wigs on fprings ;
Tetes built like towers, and rumps like ostrich wings..
If this piece please, each fummer I'll go over,
And fetch new patterns by the Straits of Dover,

ΕΡΑ

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E PILOGUE

TO..

EDGAR AND

EMME LINE.

Ο

WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK,

Spoken by Mrs. YATES.

LD times, old fashions, and the fairies gone ;
Let us return, good folks, to fixty-one-
To this bleft time, ye fair, of female glory,
When pleasures unforbidden lie before ye!

No Sprites to fright you now, no guardian Elves;
Your wife directors are-your own dear selves-
And every fair one feels, from old to young,
While these your guides- -you never can do wrong
Weak were the fex of yore-their pleasures few→→
How much more wife, more fpirited are you?
Would any Lady Jane, or Lady Mary,
Ere they did this or that, confult a Fairy?
Would they permit this faucy pigmy crew,

For each fmall flip, to pinch 'em black and blue ?
Well may you fhudderfor, with all your charms,

Were this the cafe-good heaven, what necks and arms!:
Thus did they ferve our grandames heretofore→→→→→

The very thought muft make us moderns fore!

Did their poor hearts for cards or dancing beat,
Thefe Elves rais'd blisters on their hands and feet:
Tho' Loo the game, and fiddles play'd most fweetly-
They could not fqueeze dear Pam, nor foot Mall Peatly..
Were wives with hufbands but a little wilful,
Were they at that fame Loo a little filful;
Did they with pretty fellows laugh or sport-
Wear ruffs too fmall, or petticoats too thort:
Did they, no matter how, difturb their cloaths ;.
Or, over-lilied, add a little rofe!-

Thefe fpiteful fairies rattled round their beds,
And put ftrange frightful nonfenfe in their heads
Nay, while the hufband fnor'd and pruh aunt,
Had the fond wife but met the dear gallant-

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