PROLOGUE.

Written by JAMES BOADEN, Efq.

SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN.

OW narrow is the sphere a modern Bays

How

Is doom'd to range, while he contrives his Plays;

Still urg'd by folly, Beings to explore,

Whom he and you so often faw before :

Precluded characters by their advance,

Whose minds could pierce thro' Nature with a glance,
And still of right poffefs the moral Stage

With leffons ftudied in a diftant age;
In this, our glass, you yet reflected find
The levities which leffen human kind :
The lighter follies which the Town engage,
All that prevail in fashion makes-the Rage!

Yes, all though various be the motly forms,
That fway by weak'ning, or compel in ftorms:
That up to Fop evaporate the Lord;

Or down to Jockey fink the Maid ador'd;
Confound diftinctions, firm and frail perplex,
And make it difficult-to guess even sex.

But is the Rage to levity confin'd?

Does no juft paffion fway the general mind?
Lo! the rough Veteran, whom his Country's claim,

Roufes to vindicate her injured name!

The

The Rage is Conqueft which his bofom fires,
The foe yields then-no! then his rage expires.

When in fome dreadful conteft on the wave
The gallant seaman finds a watʼry grave,
Ere the laft pulfe of ebbing life be o'er,

When the eye turns towards his native shore,
This thought may ev'n the parting pang affuage
That, there-Humanity is ftill the Rage.

Our Author's Mufe follows with fashion's gale,
Down a smooth river an amusive sail ;
She dares no fea where boisterous paffions fway,
Or merely dips her wing, and haftes away.
O, may her airy toil your love engage,

And her new flight to please you be-The Rage.

EPILOGUE.

EPILOGUE.

Written by EDWARD TOPHAM, Efq.

SPOKEN BY MRS. MATTOCKS.

WELL,

ELL, Gentlefolks, again your moft obedient; That I'm the Epilogue is held expedient: Our Bard, who for a youth well knows the Stage, Thought as to speaking, Women were "The Rage." And faid-"Good Mrs. Mattocks, pray, advance ; "Females must now step forward as in France."

My answer was-" My dear, kind Sir, have pity, "Pray spare the Ladies-Men secure our city. "For, arm'd by Parliament, to calm each fear, "Huge corps of Common-Councilmen appear, "Wards Liveries, Deputies, en Militaire, "Led by Lieutenant-Colonel-my Lord Mayor ! "Each man, (a fight at which his Lady fwoons,)

"Belt, fabre, helmet, fpurs, and pantaloons!"

"Dear Chuck"-fays Spouse-" pray fit at home, do yielde, "Confider, Love, your age; you grow unwieldy; "Good twenty ftone, Dear, cannot play about, "Befides, thofe cold Jack Boots hurt Lovey's gout."

"Gout! vulgar nonsense Voman-Gout! Gad's curse,

Heavy! why, I'm a private of Light Horfe

"Drefs! wheel! charge-Could I on Horseback get "I or my horfe would do fome mischief yet."

Thus,