The Connoiffeur takes out his glafs, to pry Turns topsy-turvy my whole compofition, My Warehouse thus for Nature's walks supplies Shoes for all ranks, and Lafts of every size: Sit ftill, and try them, firs; I long to please ye; How well they fit! I hope you find them eafy: If the Shoe pinches fwear you cannot bear it, But, if well made-I wish you health to wear it. PROLOGUE PROLOGUE To the Revived Comedy of EPICANE, or the SILENT WOMAN. January, 1776. APPY the foaring Bard, who boldly wooes, HAP And wins the favour of the Tragick Muse! He from the grave may call the mighty dead, In Bufkins and Blank Verfe the Stage to tread On Pompeys and old Cæfars rife to fame, And join the Poet's to th' Hiftorian's name. The Comick wit, alas! whofe eagle eyes Pierce nature thro' and mock the time's difguife, Whose pencil living follies brings to view, Survives thofe follies, and his portraits too; Like fbar-gazers deplores his luckless fate, For last year's Almanacks are out of date. "The Fox, the Alchymift, the Silent Woman, "Done by Ben Jonfon, are out-done by no Man." Thus fay, in rough, but panegyrick rhymes, The Wits and Criticks of our author's times. 1 But But now we bring him forth with dread and doubt, And Drugger's humour scarcely keeps him fweet. To-night if you would feaft your eyes and ears, Go back in fancy near two hundred years; A play of Ruffs and Farthingales review, Old English fashions, such as then were new! Drive not Tom Otter's Bulls and Bears away; Worfe Bulls and Bears difgrace the present day. On fair Collegiates let no Critick frown! A Ladies' Club ftill holds its rank in town. If modern cooks, who nightly treat the Pit, Do not quite cloy and furfeit you with wit, From the old kitchen please to pick a bit! If once, with hearty ftomachs to regale On old Ben Johnson's fare, tho' somewhat stale, A meal on Bobadil you deign'd to make, Take EPICANE for his and Kitely's fake! } EPILOGUE Spoken by Mrs. ABINGTON in the Character of Lady TEAZLE. June, 1777. I Who was late fo volatile and gay, Like a trade-wind, must now blow all one way, Bend all my cares, my ftudies, and my vows, To one old rusty weather-cock-my spouse; So wills our virtuous Bard! the pye-ball'd Bayes Of crying Epilogues and laughing Plays. Old bachelors, who marry fmart young wives, Learn from our play to regulate your lives! Each bring his dear to town-all faults upon herLondon will prove the very fource of honour; Plung'd fairly in, like a cold Bath, it ferves, When principles relax, to brace the nerves. Such is my cafe-and yet I muft deplore That the gay dream of Diffipation's o'er : And And fay, ye fair, was ever lively wife, Like me, condemn'd to fuch a difmal doom? In the lone ruftick hall for ever pounded, With dogs, cats, rats, and fqualling brats furrounded? That pants for Lu, or flutters at a Vole? T "And 1 |