University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.
It is the Custom of all City-Feasts,
By Printed Tickets to Invite the Guests;
The Price is known, and who the Stewards are,
And nothing's Private but the Bill of Fare,
Which we expose the fall of Mortimer.
For Plays are Feasts, and every Scene should be,
A Different Course, still fresh variety:
But few obtain that Master piece of Wit,
He's a rare Cook that can all Pallats hit;
For Ways of Eating alter with the Age,
And such a Peuking stomach haunts the Stage;
Altho' the best of Artists strive to please,
'Tis very seldom that they meet succe'ss,
You set aside the most substantiall Food,
Beef's Gross, and breeds the Scurvy in the Blood,
Nought but Ragoo's and Kickshaws now are good;
Broken Remains tosst by the Mounseirs hand
Are grown the Darling Viand of the Land,
Therefore our friend lest you should think it strange
To Jump from an Extream into a change,
With Satyr raises up his Masses high,
And Interlards his Tale with Comedy:
But should he fail, we doubt not but to find,
You to the Waiters always will be Kinde;
And since The Author who did this Prepare
Only expects your Liking for his share,
Do not Withdraw the Profit from the Player.