EPILOGUE,

To the COMEDY of I'LL TELL YOU WHAT!

M

Spoken by Mifs FARREN.

Auguft, 1785.

ALE Criticks applaud to the fkies the Male
Scribblers;

When a Woman attempts they turn carpers and

nibblers:

But a true patriot Female, there's nothing fo vexes As this haughty pre-eminence claim'd 'twixt the fexes.

The free spirit revolts at each hard proposition,
And meets the whole system with loud oppofition.
Men, 'tis true, in their noddles, huge treasures
may hoard;

But the heart of a Woman with Paffions is ftor'd:
With Paffions, not copied from Latin or Greek,
Which the language of Nature, in plain English
speak.

Girls, who grieve, or rejoice, from true feeling as I do, Never dream of Calypfo, or Helen, or Dido.

Το

To the end of our life, from the hour we begin it, Woman's Fate all depends on the Critical Minute! A Minute, unknown to the dull pedant tribe, And which never feeling, they never defcribe. 'Tis no work of Science, or fparkle of Wit, But a point which mere Nature muft teach us to hit; And which, in the changes and turns of my story, A weak Woman's Pen has to-night laid before ye. And fay, ye grave Prudes! gayCoquettes too, ah, say, What a Critical Minute was mine in the Play! Here Poverty, Famine, and Shame, and Reproach! There Plenty and Eafe, and a Lord, and a Coach! But perhaps our Bard held Mrs. Eufton too mean, And conceiv'd her difgrace would but lower the Scene:

Let us then, better pleas'd, to acquit than convict her,

On the ground of High Life, sketch the very fame Picture!

Imagine fome Fair plung'd in modish distress!
Her wants not less than mine, nor her agony less!
At Hazard, fuppofe, an unfortunate caft

Has swept her laft guinea, náy more than her laft!
Her diamonds all mortgag'd, her equipage fold,
Her husband undone, genteel friends looking cold!
At her feet his fweet perfon Lord Foppington throws,
The moft hand fome of Nobles, the richest of Beaux!

At once too his love and his bounty difpenfes, Sooths with Thousands her grief, lulls with Flatt'ry

her fenfes !

Alas! what a Minute! ah! what can be done?

All means must be tried, and our Drama fhows one. Let Papa in that Minute, that fo frowns upon her, Redeem the vile debts that encumber her Honour! Let Papa in that Minute, that teems with undoing, Step in, like my Father, and mar a Lord's wooing! Let her know, as I've known, all the horror that's in it,

And feel the true force of the Critical Minute!

Thus wishes our Bard, as fhe bids me declare; And fuch is my wifh-By mine Honour I fwear!

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

At the opening of the THEATRE ROYAL, HAY-MARKET, June, 1786.

Spoken by Mr. BENSLEY.

E SAGE, of life and manners no mean teacher,
Draws an Archbishop, once a famous preacher;

Till apoplex'd at laft, his congregation

Smelt Apoplexy in each dull Oration.

Our Chief, alas, fince here we parted laft,
Has many a heavy hour of anguish paft;
Meanwhile by Malice it was faid and written,
His mind and body both at once were fmitten*;
Yet now return'd in promifing condition,
Alive, in very fpite of his Phyfician,

Again with rapture hails the generous town,
Sure that Misfortune never meets their Frown!

Fam'd Pafquin, his applauded predeceffor, 'Gainft Wit and Humour never a tranfgreffor,

* Alluding to a paragraph in the Publick Advertiser of November 4, 1785. This couplet, omitted at the Theatre, is here restored, in order to prevent > any misapplication of the next line but one.Y 4

Still

Still cheer'd your vacant hour with jeft and whim,
When hapless chance depriv'd him of a limb:
But you who long enjoy'd the tree's full shade,
Cherifh'd the Pollard, and were well repaid,
Shall then his Follower lefs your favour share,
Or rais'd by former kindness, now despair?
No! from your fmiles deriving all his light,
Those genial beams fhall make his flame more bright.
Warm Gratitude for all your kindness paft
Shall footh Disease, and charm Affliction's blast;
By Reason's twilight we may go aftray,
But honeft Nature fheds a purer ray;
While more by feeling than cold caution led,
The heart corrects the errors of the head.

Cheer'd by these hopes he banishes all fear,
And trufts at least, you'll find No Palfy here.

PROLOGUE