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77359

C O M E DY.

м

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

THE A TREROY A L,

COVENT-GARDEN.

By FREDERICK REYNOLDS:

LONDON

PRINTED BY W. WOOD FALL :

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

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EPILOGUE.

Written by Miles Peter Andrews, Esq. 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? Ask the Buck, the Wit ; The falhion'd Peer, and the no-fashion'd Cit. Renown's the word---Men, Women, Girls and Boys, Write, fight, game, drink, and dress to make a noise. “ Damne, I'm up to that, cries Bobby Crop, " No fellow in the town shall me out-top ; “ I'll have a dock as close as young Lord Wizen, “ For dam’me, an't my hea l as thick as bis’n ?” Then, like a fighting cock, trimm'd short and bare, He mounts his fpurs, and crows away---look there! What crowds of desp’rate herocs fall for fame, And lose their characters to raise a name.

See the fine wife of some plain country 'Squire,
To ev'ry town-bred folly swift aspire---
Sce her each night, with all the force she'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 shows 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 huddy-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 rest---amongst the wits most witty, In dress and talk,'s your Jemmy from the city. His coat, by some 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---seen Bob's Curricle---it goes curst quick. es The Builder says--.-'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 stick---No, daime, it's in my pocket." There's proof enough, we trust you will agree, That life's great aim, is Notoriety. Our Bard and I, acknowledge both this feature, And hope we shall be known by your good nature.

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Nominal,

Mr. Lewis.
Col. Hubbub (his Guardian) Mr. Quick.
Sir Andrew Acid,

Mr. WILSON.
Lord Jargon,

Mr. MUNDEN.
Clairville (bis Brother) Mr. FARREN.
Saunter,

Mr. Davies.
James,

Mr. FARLEY.
O'Whack,

Mr: JOHNSTONE.

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Lady Acid,

Mrs. WEBB,
Sophia Strangeways 1

Mrs. WELLS.
(Ward to Sir Andrew )
Honoria (Nieceto Col.Hubbub) Mrs. Esten.

SCENE- London,

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