THE

R A G E:

A

COM E DY.

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.

BY

FREDERICK REYNOLDS.

“ You fashionable People are very vulgar !"

GINGHAM.

A NEW EDITION.

London:

PRINTED FOR T. N. LONGMAN, PATERNOSTER ROW.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

PROLOGUE.

Written by JAMES BOADEN, Esq.

SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN.

HOW
OW narrow is the sphere a modern Bays

Is doom'd to range, while he contrives his Plays;
Still urg'd by folly, Beings to explore,
Whom he and you so often saw before :
Precluded characters by their advance,
Whose minds could pierce thro’ Nature with a glance,
And still of right possess the moral Stage
With lessons studied in a distant age ;
In this, our glass, you yet reflected find
The levities which letlen human kind :
The lighter follies which the Town engage,
All that prevail in falhion makes—the Rage !

Yes, all ! though various be the motly forms,
That sway by weak’ning, or compel in storms:
That up to Fop evaporate the Lord;
Qr down to Jockey fink the Maid ador'd;
Confound distinctions, firm and frail perplex,
And make it difficult-to guess even sex.

But is the Rage to levity confind?
Does no just passion fway the general mind?
Lo ! the rough Veteran, whom his country's claim,
Rouses to vindicate her injured name !

The

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

When in some dreadful contest on the wave
The gallant seaman finds a wat’ry grave,
Ere the last pulse 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 still the Rage.

Our Author's Muse follows with fashion's gale,
Down a smooth river an amusive fail ;
She dares no sea where boisterous passions sway,
Or merely dips her wing, and hastes away.
O, may her airy toil your love engage,
And her new flight to please you be-The Rage.

EPILOGUE

EPILOGU E.

Written by EDWARD TOPHAM, Esq.

SPOKEN BY MRS. MATTOCKS.

WELL, Gentlefolks, again your most 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 said "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 swoons,) “ Belt, fabre, helmet, spurs, and pantaloons !"

“ Dear Chuck"—says Spouse—“pray fit at home, do yielde,

Consider, Love, your age ; you grow unwieldy; “ Good twenty stone, Dear, cannot play about, “ Belides, those cold Jack Boots hurt Lovey's gout." “ Gout! vulgar nonsense Voman-Gout ! Gad's curse, “ Heavy! why, I'm a private of Light Horse“ Dress! wheel! chargel-Could I on Horseback get " I or my horse would do some mischief yet.”

Thus,