University of Virginia Library

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EPILOGUE.

Written by a FRIEND,

And spoken by Mrs. YATES.

In all this bustle, rage, and tragic roar,
Which some wits here politely call a bore,
Have I not wept, and rav'd, and tore my hair,
Till some I forc'd to weep, and some to stare?
Yet now I must, by custom, to divert you,
Tell what I think of this heroic virtue.
Mirth has increas'd, when tragedies are finish'd,
Increases still, and must not be diminish'd.
Alive your passion tho' our play may keep,
Behind the curtain you must have a peep.
Tho' bright the tragic character appear,
Our private foibles you delight to hear.
In life's great drama the same rule we find:
When on that stage the patron of mankind
Performs his part—the public virtues strike,
But 'tis the secret anecdote we like.
If there a Patriot rave with furious might,
And love his country—out of downright spite;
It passes for a copy of his face;
Has he not been to Court to beg a Place?
When some bright Orator his country's cause
Sustains, and talks of Liberty and Laws,
Hear, hear, all cry; in attitude he stands,
Sprawling his feet, and stretching forth his hands;
“In this petition, Sir—the nation begs;
“And, Mr. Speaker—while I'm upon my legs;

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“And, Sir—our ancestors—and whig and tory;
“And, Sir—the laws;—and, Sir—Great Britain's glory!”
All gaze; all wonder; such amazing powers!
But how does he employ his private hours?
The nation sav'd, he hurries, in a trice,
To shake the box, and be undone at dice.
Some Politicians figure in debate,
Then sleep—to shew the quiet of the State.
Your Hollanders, when treachery is ripe,
Break every treaty, and then—smoke their pipe.
If by remonstrances you try to mend them,
Mynheer smokes on—“'tis all ad referendum.”
We storm upon the stage th' impassion'd breast,
Then come, and turn all sympathy to jest.