University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE, Written by DAVID GARRICK, Esq; Spoken by Mrs. YATES.

Exhausted quite with prisons, racks, and death,
Permit me here to take a little breath!
You who have seen my actions, known their springs,
Say, are we women such insipid things?
Say, lords of the creation, mighty men!
In what have you surpass'd us, where? and when?
I come to know to whom the palm is due,
To us weak vessels, or to stronger you?
Against your conqu'ring swords, I draw—my fan,
Come on!—now parry Marg'ret, if you can.
(Sets herself in a posture of defence.
Stand up, ye boasters! (to the pit)
don't there sneaking sit;
Are you for Pleasure, Politics for Wit?
The boxes smile to see me scold the pit.
Their turn is next—and tho' I will not wrong 'em,
A woeful havock there will be among 'em.—
You our best friends, (to the pit) love, cherish, and respect us;
Not take our fortunes, marry, and neglect us.
You think indeed, that as you please, you ride us,
And with a strange importance often school us!
Yet, let each citizen describe a brother,
I'll tell you what you say of one another.
My neighbour leads, poor soul, a woeful life,
A worthy man—but govern'd by his wife!
How, say you? what, all silent?—then, 'tis true:
We rule the city—Now, great Sirs, to you.
(to the boxes.)
What is your boast?—Wou'd you, like me, have done,
To free a captive wife, or save a son?
Rather than run such dangers of your lives,
You'd leave your children, and lock up your wives.
When with your noblest deeds, a nation rings!
You are but puppets, and we play the strings.
We plan no battles—true—but out of sight,
Crack goes the fan,—and armies halt of fight!
You have th'advantage, Ladies—wisely reap it,
And let me hint the only way to keep it.
Let men of vain ideas, have their sill,
Frown, bounce, stride, strut,—while you, with happy skill,
Like anglers, use the finest silken thread;
Give line enough—nor check the tugging head:
The fish will slounder—you with gentle hand,
And soft degrees, must bring the trout to land:
A more specific nostrum cannot be—
Probatum est—and never fails with Me.