The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted ... Now First Collected. With Historical Notes, And Biographical Memoirs of the Author, by John Nichols |
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EPILOGUE to “The Widow Bewitched,”
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 | The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted |  |
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EPILOGUE to “The Widow Bewitched,”
a Comedy, by JOHN MOTLEY, Esq. 1730.
The Widow was Bewitch'd, and Author too,
To give his work a mame so oddly new:
He might have reason for this wild pretence;
But, sure, a Wife Bewitch'd were plainer sense:
The standing ill, which courts and cities know!
The peasant's grievance, and the statesman's woe!
Through Heaven itself the magic reign'd of old,
Where every Married Goddess was a scold;
From thence to earth, the gift of Gods! it came,
And Juno thunders in Xantippe's name:
On its own strength this character relies,
Bright and immortal as its native skies!
From age to age deriv'd with greater sway,
And re-confirm'd on every wedding-day!
Thus womankind one fated impulse drives;
When maids, they're witches; and bewitch'd, when wives!
But what's a title after all? you'll say.
Why, faith! 'tis every thing, 'tis half the play:
Whate'er's call'd merit, through the world, explore;
You'll find 'tis empty title, and no more:
Set that aside, who might not safe defy
Lord Belmour's wit, or Lady Spangle's eye?
“Were I,” says Mopsa, “wedded to an Earl,
“My life for yours, l'd be a pretty girl!”
To give his work a mame so oddly new:
He might have reason for this wild pretence;
But, sure, a Wife Bewitch'd were plainer sense:
The standing ill, which courts and cities know!
The peasant's grievance, and the statesman's woe!
Through Heaven itself the magic reign'd of old,
Where every Married Goddess was a scold;
From thence to earth, the gift of Gods! it came,
And Juno thunders in Xantippe's name:
On its own strength this character relies,
Bright and immortal as its native skies!
From age to age deriv'd with greater sway,
And re-confirm'd on every wedding-day!
Thus womankind one fated impulse drives;
When maids, they're witches; and bewitch'd, when wives!
But what's a title after all? you'll say.
Why, faith! 'tis every thing, 'tis half the play:
Whate'er's call'd merit, through the world, explore;
You'll find 'tis empty title, and no more:
Set that aside, who might not safe defy
Lord Belmour's wit, or Lady Spangle's eye?
“Were I,” says Mopsa, “wedded to an Earl,
“My life for yours, l'd be a pretty girl!”
But, let this circumstance be as it will;
We have a title to your pity still:
What bosom so revolts from Nature's laws,
As not to plead this wretched Widow's cause!
In her first chain ordain'd to drag-out life;
A fancy'd Widow, and a real Wife!
With double cruelty by fortune crost,
Who found a Husband, and a Lover lost.
We have a title to your pity still:
What bosom so revolts from Nature's laws,
As not to plead this wretched Widow's cause!
In her first chain ordain'd to drag-out life;
A fancy'd Widow, and a real Wife!
With double cruelty by fortune crost,
Who found a Husband, and a Lover lost.
| The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted | |