EPILOGUE TO THE MIDNIGHT HOUR.

Acted at Heathfield Park, January 3, 1793.

(Spoken by Miss N. in the Character of FLORA.)

Now the Play's over-does it not seem flat,

Without a little more of female chat ?

Without a line or two of Epilogue?

So I just gave our Manager a jog:

But he exclaimed-"What, sit down now to write-Ha? "Without a thought?-Minervá too invitâ?”

Talked of your patience, and quousque tandem—~
Some Latin nonsense!-I don't understand him.
None of your stuff, said I;—I must be heard:-
(For Ladies should have always the last word);

And as I found him such a churlish elf,

Declared I'd try an Epilogue myself.

Name then the strain, that Flora's hand shall touch:-
France, or the Times? the Drama, or the Dutch* ?
On every theme we equal power display;

And though the men would teach us to obey,
We'll make them bow to our superior sway.
While the just ardour of association

Pervades with generous warmth the loyal nation;

While all male Britons, true and patriotic,

Unite to quell conspiracies exotic;

We Women will rise up, pursue their plan;

Assert our Rights, and crush the Rights of Man;

With flap of fans effect our Revolution

Then shall the toast be-QUEEN AND CONSTITUTION:

Down with the vile thrum Cap of Liberty :

Then Freedom's banners female caps shall be;

*The Revolution in Holland then in progress.

And soon we'll prove the reign of petticoats,

The real government of Sans Culottes.

We owe to France, so wretched! once, so gay! Translated and adopted, this our play ;—

Yet those who grace the Midnight Hour, will mark
How France and England differ in the dark :-
While there, destruction, tumult, and affright,
Give deeper horrors to the gloom of night;
Here, cheerful Peace, secure from all annoy,
Can make the Midnight Hour, an hour of joy.
But now, perhaps, our failings to excuse
Were better timed than politics or news.
Should we, like Nicolas, to please our friends,
Have bustled long, yet failed to gain our ends :-
If lame, like Ambrose, these our troops—yet hold!
Though lame as Ambrose, let us feel as bold.
Warm as our General's, each breast of yours
Turns censure, like old Cicely, out of doors :-

And still we find you, where we need correction,
Deaf, as Mathias, to each imperfection.

Take, then, in recompense of your good nature,

This heartfelt wish, in lieu of jest or satire:—

Long may the tenour of each future year

"Be happiness, unmingled with a tear :—

"Ne'er may you feel, from Fortune's changeful power,

"A time less pleasing than this-Midnight Hour."

EPILOGUE TO LOVE A-LA-MODE.

Acted at Heathfield Park, January 2, 1794. (Spoken by Miss N. in the Character of CHARLOTTE.)

WELL! I've escap'd!—and am rejoic❜d to find
I've left my train of lovers all behind.—

Should Charlotte, with her spirit, meanly stoop,
And condescend to choose from such a group ?
Of folly, or of pride, to be the prey?

Oh no!-How glad I am 'twas but a play.

Thus oft at night, when turbid thoughts molest, And wayward fancy wrings the tortur'd breast, Distress'd, despairing, driv'n to the extreme;Happy we wake, and find 'twas all a dream.

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