University of Virginia Library

An Entertainment, by Way of Epilogue, in the Characters of Wisdom, and Love.

[PALLAS descending with Helmet, and Spear, to an Overture of warlike Musick.]
Pallas.

[Cupid descends, with his bow, and his quiver, to a change of soft musick.
Cupid.
Goddess! I heard thee—thy reproachful pride
I, thus defy—and shade thy towery side!
I, too, dare strutt!

[they cross disdainfully]
Pallas.
—Proud toy! his wings he spreads:
But his blunt arrows, all, have lost their heads!
Go, helpless, tasteless, thoughtless, powerless, Chit,
Thou ghost of passion! and thou jest of wit!
Where are thy boasts, of touching man with pain?
And, what is Woman, now?—

Cupid.
—Vain—sweetly vain.

Pallas.
'Tis thence love languishes—

Cupid.
—unjust complaint.
Love languishes, because desire grows faint:
And that, proud scorner! I must charge on thee.
Thine are their minds.—their beauties busy me.
Of late, e'en there, my power has been unknown;
All their new modes of charming are—their own.
I taught the sex their art, of wounding sure,
But they themselves have taught the arts of cure.
Each amorous scene, that fills this active space,
Sees a light laugh, disarm some angel face:
No serious sounds can their light hearts engage,
Sweet sep'rate Actors! they despise the stage!
Attention is beneath a Beauty's care,
Her whirlwind spirit scatters sense in air.
Absent, in presence, they unlistening sit,
Too gay for meaning! and too fine for wit!
Or, when they grieve, they bring their own chagrin,
Nor feel the foreign sorrows of the scene.
Impatient, five, long, acts, they loll, reclin'd:
And sigh for Plays of a more winning kind,
All, of one mind, of late, agreed—they fall,
Victims, to one gallant.

Pallas.
—But one, for All?
Sure! he must be some rarity!

Cupid.
—No doubt,
I'll draw his picture, and you'll point him out.
A painted, thin, smooth, pale-fac'd, tottering beau!
Deaf, dumb, blind, lame—too weak to stand or go!
From hand to hand, kind souls! they stoop to shift him;
For he can't stir a limb, but as they lift him!
Yet, more than love, or wit, their hearts he moves,
And changes oft'ner, than they change their loves!

Pallas.
And do they like this monster?

Cupid.
Aye:—and will.

Pallas.
What! all?

Cupid.
All—all

Pallas.
What is his name?

Cupid.
—Quadrille.

Pallas.
It has been said, that love and folly, fit:
But you're a Joker, Cupid! and a Wit;
Let us, each, singly,—our perswasion try:
Take you one half the house—the other I.

Cupid.
Alas! 'twill never do—'Tis fruitless zeal:
Passions, that move that sex, must make 'em feel.
All—you can say, they laugh at—

Pallas.
Boy, be still,
Yours, let the Ladies hear—the men my will.
[Advances to the front of the stage]
If, Gentlemen! you disregard the Player,
Or hear him, coldly, and with-hold your care;
For your own sakes, support his powerful Art,
That lets in love, and pity to the heart.
Here, first, imprinted sighs an entrance find;
And the soul opening, leaves disguise, behind.
Taught by the scene with gen'rous warmth to glow,
To feel another's joy, and share his woe;
Your fair adopts each suff'ring lover's view,
And by the worth of heroes, measures you.

[stepping back]
Cupid.
—E're I go,
I'm sure, my labour's lost—

Pallas.
—Despair not, so.

[Cupid comes forward]
Cupid.
Ladies! your rivals in gay climes, complain,
That winds and frosts, assail your charms, in vain;
'Twere glorious envy! could they, also say,
That, while their taste quits love and wit, for Play,
You, noblier-minded, and of sense more true,
Scorn to be loveliest, and not wisest, too!
That, form'd, like them, to be the themes of wit,
You not, like them, forsake—but cherish it.
Think of your glory, Ladies!

[Pallas comes forward, again.]
Pallas.
—Gentlemen!
Think of your int'rest—and forsake the scene,
At your own peril—Wives, who, from Quadrille,
Return, with ruffled face, and fighting will!
Would, at the scenes soft fire, new point their charms;
And bring redoubled transport, to your arms.

Cupid.
Enough—The prudent urge no wish, too high.

Pallas.
E'en Love can counsel well when Wisdom's by!

Cupid.
YOU, Goddess boast your power in man's strong breast;
But I know woman's weaker bosom, best.
Still what they will, they will—

Pallas.
Then, be it ours,
Perswasion failing, to exert new powers.
Let both henceforth, our diff'rent influence join,
And see reluctant beauty forc'd to shine.

Cupid.
Great Pallas! I embrace thee:—Be it so—
[embracing
Goddess of arts, and arms! receive my bow:
[gives the bow
Take, and new-point, Love's every blunted dart:
[gives the arrow
And tipt with reason, wound, and heal, the heart.

Pallas.
Cupid!—associate God, of smiles, and joy!
Take, in exchange, this spear—no feath'ry toy!
And now, where'er thou see'st a fair one's breast
Flutter, too lightly,—touch—and give it rest.
But, where some solid virtue sighs, in vain,
Wound, with my lance: and dignify the pain.

Cupid.
Now, woman's empire's fix'd!

Pallas.
Confirm it, Jove!

Cupid.
Love softens Wisdom—

Pallas.
—Wisdom strengthens love.