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77359

COMED Y.

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE-ROYA L,

COVENT-GARDEN.

By FREDERICK REYNOLDS.

LONDON

PRINTED BY W. WOODFALL:

AND SOLD BY T. N. LONGMAN, PATERNOSTER-ROW,

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EPILOGUE.

Written by MILES PETER ANDREWS, Efq.

And Spoken by Mr. LEWIS, in the Character of NOMINAL. ONCE more, my friends, here's Nominal the glorious, Again attempting to be more notorious.

What's life without it? Afk the Buck, the Wit ; The fashion'd Peer, and the no-fashion'd Cit. Renown's the word---Men, Women, Girls and Boys, Write, fight, game, drink, and drefs to make a noise. "Dam'ne, I'm up to that, cries Bobby Crop, "No fellow in the town fhall me out-top; "I'll have a dock as clofe as young Lord Wizen, "For dam'me, an't my head as thick as his'n ?" Then, like a fighting cock, trimm'd short and bare, He mounts his fpurs, and crows away---look there! What crowds of defp'rate heroes fall for fame, And lose their characters to raise a name.

See the fine wife of fome plain country 'Squire,

To ev'ry town-bred folly swift aspire---
See her each night, with all the force fhe's able,
Fly to be talk'd of at the Faro table---
Fat Mrs. Duckleg whispers to her spouse,
Why, Hubby, love, I knows now what I knows.
Look what a thriving man is neighbour Wittle,
It's all because his wife fhows off a little.
Had I fine clothes, I have a manner too,
And you might hold your head as others do."
But coopt up thus, like a meer hoddy-doddy,
Nobody knows that one is any body,

Thus

Thus wide diffus'd thro' all this bustling town
Reigns the strong principle of being known---,
Above the reft---amongst the wits most witty,
In drefs and talk,'s your Jemmy from the city.
His coat, by fome unlucky taylor trusted,
Hangs off his back, as going to be dusted;
While in the Upper Boxes, fully known,
He sports a language which is quite his own.

Eh, Jack! On Change to day? How goes Lot. Tick? "Ha---feen Bob's Curricle---it goes curft quick. "The Builder fays---'twixt us---it goes on tick--"Been dipping, hey, at Margate or at Brighton ? "Touch'd ten last night, and ev'ry one a light one. "Hey, Tom, how do?---Oh, is that you, Dick Docket! "You've stole my ftick---No, damme, it's in my pocket.” There's proof enough, we truft you will agree, That life's great aim, is Notoriety.

Our Bard and I, acknowledge both this feature,
And hope we fhall be known by your good nature.

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