University of Virginia Library

Search this document 


EPILOGUE: Spoke by Mrs. OLDFIELD.

We've shown Ye, Sirs! how France, of Old, was got:
And, now, I'll tell ye, why we kept it not.—
This Hero's Son and Heir,—no warring Ranger!
Lov'd Grace, obey'd his Wife, and hated Danger.
Our Harry fought, all Day, and slept, all Night:
Nor dreamt of gentler Joys, than those of Fight.
Tho' bold, in War, His Feats, in Love, were faint!
And this fam'd Champion gave the World a—Saint!
There was a Bliss!—Oh! how was Kate mistaken!
Such thund'ring Fame must mighty Hopes awaken:
But, tir'd with Action, Her Heroick Lover
Was found, in Peace, and Wedlock, no great Mover.
There lay the Guilt:—nor went unpunish'd, long,
Weak tho' the Son was, his Ill-Fate was strong.
Urg'd by slack Reins, and, quite broke loose, at last,
The Horse of Power th'unequal Rider, cast.
Then rose Division, Faction, and Debate:
And That rank Weed, Rebellion, choak'd the State.
Plunder was Law; and Force, on both Sides, Right;
And Rogues in Red ravish'd, with all their Might!
Widows, and Wives, were task'd, to their full Skill:
And stubborn Maids were—pleas'd, against their Will.


No Plots, to hoodwink Horns, were, then, of Use:
For the whole Sex made One allow'd Excuse:
Why, Dear, what Help for't?—I was vex'd, I swear,
But—had not been so serv'd, had You been there.
Now, for some grave Instruction, from the Play,
To send you, warn'd, as well as pleas'd, away!
Who,—by the Woes of a weak Prince's Rule,
Learns not, to bless the steddy, brave, and cool?
All, that a Kingdom feels, of good, or ill,
She owes, to her King's Weakness, or his Skill:
Still, what the Monarch is, still, such the State,
For a King's Conduct is his People's Fate.