University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE. Spoken by Mrs. OLDFIELD.

Was it not Bold, from stated Rules to Rove,
And make the Tragic Muse commode to Love?
To shew victorious Cæsar turn'd Gallant,
And what, in Life, the greatest Warriors want!
That all the glorious Battles they may gain,
Unless the Fair are Kind, are Fought in vain!
Prim Prudes, be sure, will urge, that lawless Fire,
In Death, and Desolation, shou'd expire!
That Tragedy shou'd fright your Hearts from Evil,
And shew, that Love unlicens'd—is the Devil!
Suppose this True—Yet, who's to judge the Error?
Wou'd Belles, and Beaux, refuse the Joy, from Terror?
Our Author, therefore, tells the downright Story,
And lays his Madam's Frailty fair before you:
Say, Nymphs! who've seen this Cleopatra die,
Were you then cur'd of Love? or did you cry
O Ged! my Lord! wou'd you were Antony!
Can you then blame a Muse, subdu'd, to write,
On what gave Cæsar's Heart such full Delight?
Since you in Music found his Charms sublime,
Make not a little Common Sense his Crime:
But let his Deeds, that through the World have rung,
Like Psalms, be pointed, to be said, or sung!
'Tis true, he had not all the Charms in Fashion;
His Lawrels gave not, like Tupé's, Temptation.
Romans, of old, were no such killing Cattle,
Nor wore their Hair, like Cocks, new trimm'd for Battle!
Nor knew of Paste, and Puffs, the modish Air,
With Heads, like frozen Mops, to melt the Fair!
Our Dame's, at least, less liable to Satyr,
Tho' frail, she chose the Grand, not Petit Maître!
Beside, if Cæsar at her Feet cou'd lye,
Your Tears may flow more Just, for Antony!
Since then, his World well Lost, your Hearts admire,
Let Her with Cæsar live, with Antony Expire.