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EPILOGUE Spoken by Mr. Shuter, at Covent Garden, after the Play of the CONSCIOUS LOVERS, acted for the Benefit of the Middlesex Hospital for Lying-in Women, 1755, in the Character of a Man-Midwife.

EPILOGUE Spoken by Mr. Shuter, at Covent Garden, after the Play of the CONSCIOUS LOVERS, acted for the Benefit of the Middlesex Hospital for Lying-in Women, 1755, in the Character of a Man-Midwife.

(Enters with a Child)
Whoe'er begot thee, has no cause to blush:
Thou'rt a brave chopping boy, (child cries)
nay, hush! hush! hush!

A workman, faith! a man of rare discretion,
A friend to Britain, and to our profession:

182

With face so chubby, and with looks so glad,
O rare roast beef of England—here's a lad! (Shews him to the Company.)
(Child makes a noise again)

Nay if you once begin to puke and cough,
Go to the nurse. Within!—here take him off.
Well, heav'n be prais'd, it is a peopling age,
Thanks to the bar, the pulpit, and the stage;
But not to th'army—that's not worth a farthing,
The captains go too much to Covent Garden,
Spoil many a girl,—but seldom make a mother,
They foil us one way—but we have them t'other. (Shakes a box of pills.)

The nation prospers by such joyous souls,
Hence smokes my table, hence my chariot rolls.
Tho' some snug jobs, from surgery may spring,
Man-midwifry, man-midwifry's the thing!
Lean shou'd I be, e'en as my own anatomy,
By mere catharticks and by plain phlebotomy.
Well, besides gain, besides the pow'r to please,
Besides the music of such birds as these, (Shakes a purse.)

It is a joy refin'd, unmix'd and pure,
To hear the praises of the grateful poor.
This day comes honest Taffy to my house,
“Cot pless her, her has sav'd her poy and spouse,
“Hersav'd her Gwinnifrid, or death had swallow'd her,
“Tho' creat crand, creat crand crand child of Cadwallader.”

183

Cries Patrick Touzl'em, “I am bound to pray,
“You've sav'd my Sue in your same physick way,
“And further shall I thank you yesterday.”
Then Sawney came and thank'd me for my love,
(I very readily excus'd his glove)
He bless'd the mon, e'en by St. Andrew's cross,
“Who cur'd his bonny bearn and blithsome lass.”
But merriment and mimickry apart,
Thanks to each bounteous hand and gen'rous heart
Of those, who tenderly take pity's part;
Who in good-natur'd acts can sweetly grieve,
Swift to lament, but swifter to relieve.
Thanks to the lovely fair ones, types of heaven,
Who raise and beautify the bounty given;
But chief to him in whom distress confides,
Who o'er this noble plan so gloriously presides.
 

The Earl afterwards Duke of Northumberland.