'Twas thus that Efop's ftag-a creature blameless, Yet fomething vain, like one that shall be nameless Once on the margin of a fountain stood,

And cavil'd at his image in the flood:

'The deuce confound,' he cries, 'thefe drumstick shanks, They never have my gratitude nor thanks; 'They're perfectly difgraceful! ftrike me dead!'But, for a head—yes, yes, I have a head. 'How piercing is that eye! how fleek that brow! 'My horns! I'm told horns are the fashion now.' Whilft thus he spoke, aftonish'd! to his view, Near and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew; 'Hoicks! hark forward!' came thund'ring from behind, He bounds aloft, outftrips the fleeting wind: He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; He ftarts, he pants, he takes the circling maze. At length his filly head, so priz'd before, Is taught his former folly to deplore; Whilft his ftrong limbs confpire to set him free, And at one bound he faves himself-like me.

(Taking a jump through the stage-door.)

EPILOGUE

TO THE COMEDY OF THE SISTERS.

WHAT! five long acts—and all to make us wifer!

Our authorefs fure has wanted an adviser.

Had the confulted me, she should have made
Her moral play a fpeaking masquerade;

Warm'd up each bustling scene, and in her rage

Have emptied all the green-room on the stage.

My life on't, this had kept her play from finking— Have pleas'd our eyes, and fav'd the pain of thinking. Well, fince she thus has fhewn her want of skill,

What if I give a masquerade?—I will.

Buthow? ay, there's the rub! (pausing) I've got my cue. The world's a mafquerrde! the mafquers, you, you, you.. (To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery.)

Lud! what a group the motley fcene difcloses!
Falfe wits, falfe wives, false virgins, and false spouses!
Statesmen with bridles on; and, close befide 'em,
Patripts in party-colour'd fuits that ride 'em.
There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more
To raise a flame in Cupids of threefcore.
These in their turn, with appetites as keen,
Deserting fifty, 'fasten on fifteen.

Mifs, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon,
Flings down her fampler, and takes up the woman:
The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure,
And tries to kill, ere fhe's got power to cure.
Thus 'tis with all-their chief and conftant care
Is to feem every thing—but what they are.
Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on,
Who feems t' have robb'd his vizor from the lion;
Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade,
Looking, as who should say, dam'me! who's afraid?
(Mimicking.)

Strip but this vizor off, and fure I am
You'll find his lionship a very lamb.
Yon politician, famous in debate,
Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, beftrides the state;
Yet, when he deigns his real shape t'affume,
He turns old woman, and beftrides a broom.

Yon patriot, too, who presses on your fight,
And seems to every gazer, all in white-
If with a bribe his candour you attack,

He bows, turns round, and whip-the man in black!
Yon critic, too-but whither do I run?

If I proceed, our bard will be undone;
Well then a truce, fince fhe requests it too--
Do you spare her; and I'll for once fpare you.

THE CLOWN'S REPLY.

JOHN TROTT was defir'd by two witty peers,
To tell them the reafon why affes had ears?
An't please you,' quoth John, 'I'm not given to letters,
Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters;

• Howe'er from this time I shall ne'er fee your graces,

• As I hope to be fav'd, without thinking on affes.'

EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.*

HERE lies

poor

Ned Purdon, from mifery freed,

Who long was a bookfeller's hack

He led fuch a damnable life in this world,

I don't think he'll wish to come back.

* Who tranflated Voltaire's Henriade.

FINIS.