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Mustapha

A Tragedy
  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE.
  
  

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86

EPILOGUE.

By a Friend.

Spoken by Mr. Quin.
Well —for this once I'll undertake the part—
But, would have been excus'd with all my heart.
I come, good Sirs, to speak an Epilogue;
I doubt, not season'd to the taste in vogue:
Nor was I made to simper, leer, and coax,
And torture meanings into wanton jokes.
Our author too avows himself unfit
To write such strains as but dishonour wit.
Yet this, with humble hope, he bids me say:
If aught, less faulty, pleas'd you in his play;
If noble passions bade your bosoms glow;
If feeling pity taught a tear to flow;
If, while he try'd to make fair virtue shine,
You smil'd indulgent on the just design:
'Twere mean, those bright impressions to efface,
That dignify the mind which gives 'em place:
And for the vain delight of some low jest,
Distaste the wise, and pain the modest breast.
Behold, that circle of the list'ning Fair,
Their looks how open! how serene their air!
May no rude blush invade one smiling face,
That safe from insult, they may veil no grace!
Be yours henceforth to save them from alarms,
And vindicate their violated charms.