University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE. Writ by Mr. Mountfort, Spoken by Mrs. Butler in Mans Apparel.

Our Scribler could not find a better way,
Then singling me a Champion for his Play,
My Manhood and his Wit are much at one,
The want of both in us are too well known;
Excuse him, 'tis his Tryal, just such another,
As some poor under-witted elder Brother,
Whose hasty Father did young Bride Beleaguer,
And got the Honey-moon weak Brat too eager,
Faith Gentlemen be kind to his first born,
I may perhaps do you as good a turn;
Be not too harsh you Critticks of the Pit,
To damn his Play wou'd look like spite, not wit,
‘See't but three days, and fill the House the last,
‘He shall not trouble you again in haste;
‘Besides, each Creditor he has is here,
‘And if your Actions seem to him severe,
‘They'll bring all theirs against him, that they swear;
‘Ladies, on you his chiefest hopes rely,
‘Your Goodness may command their Courtesie,
‘None dare oppose whatever you esteem,
‘If then they're cruel, may you prove so to them,
‘'Tis Charity, when begg'd to give relief,
‘If not, we must put on with Irish Brief,
‘And as at Church, the Gatherers stand at Door,
‘So ours with Plates shall Cry,
Pray Remember the Poor.
He thanks the goodness of his this days Friends,
You've fill'd the House, and he has gain'd his ends.