Orestes A Dramatic Opera |
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EPILOGUE; Written by HENRY FIELDING, Esq; Spoken by Mrs. YOUNGER.
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EPILOGUE; Written by HENRY FIELDING, Esq; Spoken by Mrs. YOUNGER.
Of
all the Plagues, with which a Poet's curst,
This heavy Tax of Epilogue's the worst:
For tho' his Muse be jaded in his Play,
Still she must speak, tho' she has Nought to say.
In vain the worn-out Goddess he invokes,
No Husbands, grown quite weary of their Yokes,
Are so put to't for Love,—as those for Jokes.
This heavy Tax of Epilogue's the worst:
For tho' his Muse be jaded in his Play,
Still she must speak, tho' she has Nought to say.
In vain the worn-out Goddess he invokes,
No Husbands, grown quite weary of their Yokes,
Are so put to't for Love,—as those for Jokes.
To save himself, One would the Beaux condemn;
And shews his Wit, by shewing none in them.
Their Bodies, as their Minds, he ridicules;
Nor will allow 'em that sure Claim of Fools,
To be, at least, the Womens proper Tools.
And shews his Wit, by shewing none in them.
Their Bodies, as their Minds, he ridicules;
Nor will allow 'em that sure Claim of Fools,
To be, at least, the Womens proper Tools.
Another, more inclin'd to Love than Satire,
Would dress his Wit up by undressing Nature.
The Virgin, whom his Lines can fail to touch,
Must either know too little, or too much.
Virtue by Theory taught in five dull Acts is,
The Epilogue reduces Vice to Practice.
Tho', in his Play, the Greek or Roman Dame
Shuns the least Hint of an indecent Flame;
Tho', rather than submit to naughty Wooing,
She laughs at Danger, and encounters Ruin;
Wait till the Epilogue, she stands confest
E'en One of Us,—her Virtue all a Jest:
Laughs at her Lover, if he let her 'scape;
And shews, she was too brave to fear a Rape.
Where-e'er the Tragic Scene is laid, 'tis plain
The Epilogue still lies—in Drury-Lane.
Would dress his Wit up by undressing Nature.
The Virgin, whom his Lines can fail to touch,
Must either know too little, or too much.
Virtue by Theory taught in five dull Acts is,
The Epilogue reduces Vice to Practice.
Tho', in his Play, the Greek or Roman Dame
Shuns the least Hint of an indecent Flame;
Tho', rather than submit to naughty Wooing,
She laughs at Danger, and encounters Ruin;
Wait till the Epilogue, she stands confest
E'en One of Us,—her Virtue all a Jest:
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And shews, she was too brave to fear a Rape.
Where-e'er the Tragic Scene is laid, 'tis plain
The Epilogue still lies—in Drury-Lane.
But 'tis, alike, each Author's darling Care
To recommend his Labours to the Fair.
Our Author this attempts by various Strains,
Love for soft Hearts,—and Musick for soft Brains.
To recommend his Labours to the Fair.
Our Author this attempts by various Strains,
Love for soft Hearts,—and Musick for soft Brains.
Ladies, be kind, and let his Plea stand good;
Condemn not Both, because they're understood.
Once in an Age, at least, your Smiles dispense
To English Sounds, and Tragedy that's Sense.
These are Variety to you, who come
From the Italian Opera, and Tom Thumb.
Condemn not Both, because they're understood.
Once in an Age, at least, your Smiles dispense
To English Sounds, and Tragedy that's Sense.
These are Variety to you, who come
From the Italian Opera, and Tom Thumb.
FINIS.
| Orestes | |