University of Virginia Library

THE EPILOGUE, Spoken by Mrs. Bullock.

Well , now you've seen a Youthful Bard's Essay,
His first Attempt in the Dramatic Way;
Let's know your frank Opinions—I confess,
I can't but wonder whence he hopes Success.
Thinks he, his blunt victorious Man of War,
Has Charms sufficient to engage the Fair?
One who his Mistress calmly could resign
To each brisk Spark that swears—Oons, Sir, she's mine?
No—
Give me the Man who owns a Passion warm,
That dares be bold—and take the Fort by Storm;
Not, like his cold debating Scipio, stand,
But urg'd by Love—takes us with Sword in Hand.
Old Roman Worth moves not our Sex's Hearts,
We Modern Dames love more prevailing Parts.
One who in Raptures does his Flame discover,
The bold, the daring—ah!—the pushing Lover.
But hold—
I had forgot, somewhat I ought to say
To move your Pity to befriend our Play:
I told the Youth he must not hope Success,
A Tragedy to take without Distress!
He thinks Semanthe's Wrongs will move you—No,
You're satisfy'd a Rape's no mighty Woe;
Besides, can that with any Grace appear,
While pert and noisy Sparks stand peeping here.
[Pointing to the Scenes.
Our private Scenes are grac'd with powder'd Beaus,
Who, judging wrong, laugh at our Tragic Woes,
And prove their Want of Sense to shew their Cloaths.
Alas! poor, weak, insipid, talking Elves,
Whom Nature form'd only to please themselves;
They'll damn that Part, turn round to shew their Shapes
For Beaus were ne'er found capable of Rapes;