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286

Part of the Epilogue to a Comedy call'd the Masquerade.

Heavens! what Alteration wou'd be here,
Shou'd ye to Night in your true Forms appear?
But of your real Shapes you're all afraid;
And the whole World is one great Masquerade.
The Courtier's smile, the Hero's dreadful Air,
The Virgin's Frown, the Widow's deep Despair,
And solemn Coxcomb's venerable Face
Are useful Vizards all, and meer Grimace;
And wisest, bravest, safest, happiest
Are they, whose borrow'd Masks conceal them best.