EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWES, IN THE CHARACTER OF
HARLEQUIN, at his benefit.(1)

HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense:
I'd speak a word or two, to ease my consciense.

My pride forbids it ever should be said,

My heels eclips'd the honours of my head;
That I found humour in a pyebald vest,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest.

[Takes off his mask.

Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth?
Nature disowns, and reason scorns thy mirth;
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps,
The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps.
How hast thou fill'd the scene with all thy brood
Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursued !
Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses,
Whose only plot it is to break our noses;
Whilst from below the trap-door demons rise,
And from above the dangling deities.
And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew?
May rosin'd lightning blast me if I do!
No-I will act, I'll vindicate the stage:
Shakspeare himself shall feel my tragic rage.
Off! off! vile trappings! a new passion reigns!
The madd'ning monarch revels in my veins.
Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme:

"Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!-soft—
'twas but a dream."

(1) [These were probably the last verses written by Goldsmith. They were spoken on the 28th of April 1774, twenty-four days after his death.]

Ay, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating,
If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.

Twas thus that Esop's stag, a creature blameless,
Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless,

Once on the margin of a fountain stood,

And cavill'd at his image in the flood.

"The deuce confound," he cries, "these drumstick shanks,

They never have my gratitude nor thanks;

They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead!
But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head.
How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow!
My horns!-I'm told horns are the fashion now."
Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd, to his view,
Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew;
Hoicks! hark forward! came thund'ring from behind,
He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind:
He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways;
He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze.
At length, his silly head, so priz'd before,
Is taught his former folly to deplore;
Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free,
And at one bound he saves himself, like me.

[Taking a jump through the stage door.

DRAMA S.

VOL. IV.

M

THE

GOOD-NATURED MAN;

COMEDY:

AS PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.