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Gemand on real miseiy below
So fhall our Muse, supreme of all the nine,
R 0 Ꮮ Ꭴ G U
WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK.
a Handkerchief to bis Eyes.
, I , I'm crying now- and have been all the week! 'Tis not alone ihis mourning suit, good matters ; l'eve that within--for which there are no plaisters! Pray would you know the reason why I'm crying? The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a dying! And if the goes, my tears will never stop; For as a play'r, I can't squeeze out one drop ; I am vodone, that's allthall lose
face and eye
Thus I begin-All is not gold i hat glitters,
I give it up morals won'rdo for me ;
E .P IL OG UE
Spoken by Mrs. Yates.
, and death, . Permit me here to take a litcle breach! You who have seen my actions, known their (prings, Say, are we women such infipid things Say, lords of the creation, mighty men! In what have you surpafs'd us, where and when I come to know to whom the palm is due, Tous weak vefsels, or to stronger you? Against your conqu’ring swords, I draw--my fan, Come on ! -row parry Marg’ret, if you can. (Sers herjelf in a point of defonct.
Stand up, ye boasters ! (to the pit) don't there sneak.
ing fit; Are you for pleasure, politics, or wit? The boxes smile to see me scold the pit. Their turn is next - and though I will not wrong 'em, A woeful havock there will be among 'em,-You our best friends, (co the pit) love, cherish, and
respect us ; Not take our fortunes, marry, and neglect us. You think indeed, that as you please, you rule us, And with a ftrange importance often school us! Yet let each citizen describe a brother, I'll tell you what you say of one another. My neighbour leads, poor feul, a woeful life, A worthy mamatat govern'd by his wife! How, say you: whit all filenti-then, 'tis true : We rule the city--Now, great sirs, to you. (to the boxes.) What is your boait ? - Wou'd you, like me, have done, To free a captive wife, or save a son? Rather than run such dangers of your lives, .. You'd leave your children and lock up your wives. . When with your pobleft deeds, a nation rings! You are but puppets, and we play the strings. *4e plan no battles-true--but oue of light, Crack goes the fan,- and armies hale or fight! You have th' advantage, Ladies--wisely reapity. And let me hint the only way to keep it. Let men of vain ideas have their fill, Frown, bounce, ttride, strut,-- while you, with happykilli , Like anglers, use the finelt filken thread; Give line enough-nor check the tugging head : The fish will flounder - you with gentle hand, And soft degrees must bring the trous to land : A more specific nostrum cannot be Probatum eft.--and never fails with 788
Spoken by Mifs MACKLIN.
By a fortunate voyage on a pro perous day, am landed in England, and now muit endeavour, By some means or other, to curry your favour,
Of what u e to be freed from a Gallic futjection, , Unless I'm secure of a British proiection: Without cash,--but one friend---and he too just made, Egad I've a mind to set up some trade; Of what fort! in the papers I'll publish a puff Which wont fail to procure me custom enough: " That a Lady from Paris is lately arriv'd, " Who with exquisite art has nicely contriv’d “ The best paint for the face,-the best palle for the
6 hands, " A water for freckles, for flushings, and tans. “ She can teach you the melior coeHeure for the head, “ To lisp--amulc--und fimper-and put on the red ; " To rival, to rally, to backbite, and speer, “ Um-no; that they already know pretty well here.
“ The Beaux she inftrućts to bow with a grace, " The happiest shrug,---the newest grimace.
To parler Français, - fib, flatter, and dance, " Which is very near all that they teach ye in France. “ Not a Buck, nor a Blood, through the whole English
« nation, ** But his roughness fe'll often, his figure he'll fashion. " The meereit John Tror in a week you shall zee “ Bien poli lien frizé tout à fait un Marquis.”
What d'ye think of my plan, is it form'd to your gout? May I hope for disciples in any of you. Shall I tell you my thoughts, without ruile, without art, Though abroad I've been bred, I have Iritain at heart. Then take this advice which I give for her fake, You'll gain nothing by any exchange you can make, In a country of commerce, too great the expence For their baubles and bows, to give your good sense.
NOUGH of Greece and Rome. T'hi exhausted store
Of either nation now can charm no more :
On eagle wings the poet of to-night
One dubious character, we own, he draws,
If then, asliduous to obtain his end,
From nobler motives our ailegiance springs,