 | The Curfew |  |
63
EPILOGUE.
BY MRS. OPIE.(Spoken by Miss Duncan.)
May I come forward? Do I friends behold?
Has not our Curfew then its own knell toll'd?
I fear'd our drama's name alone would fright ye,
Convinc'd no gothic customs could delight ye.
Fine whims indeed were in that monarch's head,
Who all his subjects sent at eight to bed;
Should modern rulers to such plans resort,
Alas! alas! 'twould spoil a world of sport.
Has not our Curfew then its own knell toll'd?
I fear'd our drama's name alone would fright ye,
Convinc'd no gothic customs could delight ye.
Fine whims indeed were in that monarch's head,
Who all his subjects sent at eight to bed;
Should modern rulers to such plans resort,
Alas! alas! 'twould spoil a world of sport.
Those were strange times!—for then the race of beaux
In cot, and palace, with the sun arose;
And stranger still, belles, for cosmetics, knew
Not the Olympian, but the morning dew.
From dawns chill breezes they their roses gain'd,
And queen o'er every thing, pure Nature reign'd;
Nay, such the ignorance of each untaught zany.
They follow'd larks, as we do,—Catalani.
What vulgar days! I'm glad they're pass'd away!
Then people slept all night, and wak'd all day;
To them unknown the eccentric, dear delight
To sleep all day, and visit all the night.
Unfelt by them the joy our fashion yields,
In winter, towns they sought, in Summer, fields;
But wiser, we such natural ways disown,
And cold months pass in country, hot in town:
And tho' a walk at morn's refreshing hour
Might faded beauties native bloom restore,
All such receipts for bloom I deem a bubble,
When rouge, beyond dispute, is much less trouble:—
Thus I'm convinc'd all moderns truly wise,
Beyond the past, will present customs prize;
And let me hope unenvying times that were,
You'll hate all curfews but the CURFEW HERE.
Yet, one word more:—by modern changes, witches
In cot, and palace, with the sun arose;
And stranger still, belles, for cosmetics, knew
Not the Olympian, but the morning dew.
From dawns chill breezes they their roses gain'd,
And queen o'er every thing, pure Nature reign'd;
Nay, such the ignorance of each untaught zany.
They follow'd larks, as we do,—Catalani.
What vulgar days! I'm glad they're pass'd away!
Then people slept all night, and wak'd all day;
To them unknown the eccentric, dear delight
To sleep all day, and visit all the night.
Unfelt by them the joy our fashion yields,
In winter, towns they sought, in Summer, fields;
But wiser, we such natural ways disown,
And cold months pass in country, hot in town:
64
Might faded beauties native bloom restore,
All such receipts for bloom I deem a bubble,
When rouge, beyond dispute, is much less trouble:—
Thus I'm convinc'd all moderns truly wise,
Beyond the past, will present customs prize;
And let me hope unenvying times that were,
You'll hate all curfews but the CURFEW HERE.
Have gain'd the most, for now their art enriches;
Once, stripes, or death their recompence became,
While no one wish'd a fortune-teller's name;
Then too in huts they liv'd—to us, that's novel!
We do not seek for witches in a hovel;
We for such treasures, streets, and squares explore:
What splendid coaches throng a CERTAIN DOOR!
'Tis a good trade—I'll practise it I vow,
Nay, with your leave, I will begin it now—
(After a pause, during which she looks round the house.)
Our Author's fate, I in your faces read,
And dare foretell, our drama will succeed.—
Oh! then, ye critics, if ye friendly feel,
What your hearts whisper, let your hands reveal,
Applaud, and prove me, what is not uncommon,
And quite the fashion now—a CUNNING WOMAN.
| The Curfew | |