Nigel ; or, The Crown Jewels A Play, in Five Acts |
 | 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
 | EPILOGUE, Written by a Friend, Spoken by Mrs. Chatterley. |
 | Nigel ; or, The Crown Jewels |  |
98
EPILOGUE, Written by a Friend, Spoken by Mrs. Chatterley.
Here I am once again—Pray be seated—don't fidget!
I've something important—pray listen to Bridget.
I walk'd from Paul's Wharf, all along by Fleet-ditch,
To Whitehall—where I met with King James—he's a witch!
He sees future destinies mark'd on the globes;
“Sit ye down, child,” he cried. Then he twitch'd up his robes.
“I'll tell you your fortune.” Odd thoughts seem'd to strike him.
“You've got an old husband.” “Yes!” “How do you like him?
“Um.”—“Speak.”—“Pretty middling; confess if I must,
“He's not like old Port, Sir, the better for rust:
“Time mellows our wine: that improves ev'ry hour,
“But husbands, kept too long, are apt to turn sour.”
“Odd's fish! you're a wag, girl, take paper and pen.”
Then he stalk'd up and down: twitch'd his robes up again,
And thus, deeply vers'd in the planets' decree,
Foretold London's fate in the year twenty-three.
I've something important—pray listen to Bridget.
I walk'd from Paul's Wharf, all along by Fleet-ditch,
To Whitehall—where I met with King James—he's a witch!
He sees future destinies mark'd on the globes;
“Sit ye down, child,” he cried. Then he twitch'd up his robes.
“I'll tell you your fortune.” Odd thoughts seem'd to strike him.
“You've got an old husband.” “Yes!” “How do you like him?
“Um.”—“Speak.”—“Pretty middling; confess if I must,
“He's not like old Port, Sir, the better for rust:
“Time mellows our wine: that improves ev'ry hour,
“But husbands, kept too long, are apt to turn sour.”
“Odd's fish! you're a wag, girl, take paper and pen.”
Then he stalk'd up and down: twitch'd his robes up again,
And thus, deeply vers'd in the planets' decree,
Foretold London's fate in the year twenty-three.
“Young Ensigns in whiskers, and Dandies in stays,
“Will niddety nod it in cabriolets;
“O'er pavements ill mended, will kick up a clatter—
“If their necks alone were in danger, no matter.
“A frost will make noses on new year's day tingle;
“A new Marriage Act will keep bachelors single,
“While Homer's Achilles, without boots or gaiters,
“Will stand in Hyde-park to astonish the skaiters.
“Great folks will be gadding to Paris and Rome,—
“They'd better by half spend their money at home.
“Covent-garden will keep up her scenic renown,
“And one Sleeping Beauty will wake half the town.
“But,” (here he look'd grave) “in that year twenty-three,
“She'll make a stage play of my Jewels and Me,
“(As Shakspeare serv'd Bessy, our great predecessor,
“Brought on in a crib, like a pig on a dresser.)
“'Tis ludere sacris”—(and here he look'd graver)
“And yet—if you ask it—they'll treat me with favour.”
“Ah! sire,” I replied, “your may fail in your plan.
“Will niddety nod it in cabriolets;
“O'er pavements ill mended, will kick up a clatter—
“If their necks alone were in danger, no matter.
“A frost will make noses on new year's day tingle;
“A new Marriage Act will keep bachelors single,
“While Homer's Achilles, without boots or gaiters,
“Will stand in Hyde-park to astonish the skaiters.
“Great folks will be gadding to Paris and Rome,—
“They'd better by half spend their money at home.
“Covent-garden will keep up her scenic renown,
“And one Sleeping Beauty will wake half the town.
“But,” (here he look'd grave) “in that year twenty-three,
“She'll make a stage play of my Jewels and Me,
“(As Shakspeare serv'd Bessy, our great predecessor,
“Brought on in a crib, like a pig on a dresser.)
“'Tis ludere sacris”—(and here he look'd graver)
“And yet—if you ask it—they'll treat me with favour.”
“You don't know the Pit!—But I'll do what I can.”
(To the Audience.)
Then, sirs, by your hands, prove I've utter'd no fiction,
And verify bonnie King James's pediction.
| Nigel ; or, The Crown Jewels | |