University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE, Written by Mr. CIBBER,

Of late, most Authors, when their Plays are done,
Contrive to send us prating Women on;
As if our Wise Haranguing could not fail
T' appease the Critick, as when under Sail
Ships throw an empty Barrel to a Whale.
But hold—don't thus Affront us?—
That Criticks are like Whales, so far's but Civil,
But that a Woman is a Barrel—O! the Devil!
O ho! Now at his senseless Wit I partly guess!
Barrels, he thinks, may well our Forms express;
He means, we're like for Sound, and Hoops, and Hollowness:
Sweetly concluding it of course must follow,
The Part of Woman most desir'd, her Heart, is hollow.
And pray, what's Man then, to return his Jest?
Why, when a Woman's well provok'd, a Beast;
For on their wisest Heads, we can clap Horns at least.
Barrels! A sawcy Puppy! senseless Rogue!
'Gad, I've a mind to Damn his Epilogue!
His Play I need not—no; poor wretched Elf!
That Matter's Rug! He's done that Jobb himself.
He has preacht Morals to wild English Brains,
In stupid Hopes, you'll thank him for his Pains.
Whoe'er from Tragick Scenes Success would see,
Should give your various Tastes Variety;
Instead of Camps and War, Lovers, and Grotts,
To swell the Fair with Sighs and—pretty Thoughts,
(Tho' Criticks must be pleas'd,) h'as feasted them with Faults,
Or that his Fancy might no Taste escape,
Have treated Rakes of Pleasure with a Rape;
Or, to secure him Friends, shewn other Sights;
For Whiggs, asserted Liberty, and Rights;
Or a Despotick King—for Jacobites.
And then, when things were brought to th' last Confusion,
Have shewn, what honest Men might make their Use on.
What here, all Parties join'd in once—a Revolution.
This could not fail—Nay, some still keep such Pother,
They lik'd the One so well, they want Another!
Why here, for half a Crown, you might have seen
What Madness 'twere to live such Days again.
Had he shewn Laws infring'd, or let you see
The Sweets of Rectilineal Tyranny,
Or lasht those Wretches, who, while free, complain
They're robb'd of their Hereditary Chain,
And Pine for Kings—fit only on the Stage to Reign,
You that adore 'em then might here enjoy 'em,
Whilst Men with Hearts, like Beasts of Prey annoy 'em.
To shut them hence, let Free-born Souls endeavour
That BRUNSWICK's Line may give us KINGS for Ever.