EPILOGUE, WRITTEN BY A PERSON OF HONOUR.

Our poet, something doubtful of his fate, Made choice of me to be his advocate, Relying on my knowledge in the laws; And I as boldly undertook the cause. I left my client yonder in a rant, Against the envious, and the ignorant, Who are, he says, his only enemies: But he condemns their malice, and defies The sharpest of his censurers to say, Where there is one gross fault in all his play. The language is so fitted for each part, The plot according to the rules of art, And twenty other things he bid me tell you; But I cried, e'en go do't yourself for Nelly.[A] Reason with judges, urged in the defence Of those they would condemn, is insolence; I therefore wave the merits of his play, And think it fit to plead this safer way. If when too many in the purchase share, Robbing's not worth the danger nor the care; The men of business must, in policy, Cherish a little harmless poetry, All wit would else grow up to knavery. Wit is a bird of music, or of prey; Mounting, she strikes at all things in her way. But if this birdlime once but touch her wings, On the next bush she sits her down and sings. I have but one word more; tell me, I pray, What you will get by damning of our play? A whipt fanatic, who does not recant, Is, by his brethren, called a suffering saint; And by your hands should this poor poet die, Before he does renounce his poetry, His death must needs confirm the party more, Than all his scribbling life could do before; Where so much zeal does in a sect appear, 'Tis to no purpose, 'faith, to be severe. But t'other day, I heard this rhyming fop Say,—Critics were the whips, and he the top; For, as a top spins more, the more you baste her, So, every lash you give, he writes the faster.

[Footnote A: The epilogue appears to have been spoken by Nell Gwynn.]



PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MRS BOUTELL TO THE MAIDEN QUEEN, IN MAN'S CLOTHES.

The following prologue and epilogue occur in the "Covent-Garden Drollery" a publication which contains original copies of several of Dryden's fugitive pieces. They appear to have been spoken upon occasion of the male characters in "The Maiden Queen" being represented by female performers. From our author's connection both with the play and with Mrs Reeves, who spoke the epilogue, it is probable he wrote both that and the prologue; and therefore (although not much worth preserving) we have here added them. From the reference to Ravenscroft's play of "The Citizen turned Gentleman," in the last line of the epilogue, it would seem the prologue and epilogue were written and spoken in 1672.

Women, like us, (passing for men,) you'll cry, Presume too much upon your secrecy. There's not a fop in town, but will pretend To know the cheat himself, or by his friend; Then make no words on't, gallants, 'tis e'en true, We are condemn'd to look and strut, like you. Since we thus freely our hard fate confess, Accept us, these bad times, in any dress. You'll find the sweet on't: now old pantaloons Will go as far as, formerly, new gowns; And from your own cast wigs, expect no frowns. The ladies we shall not so easily please; They'll say,—What impudent bold things are these, That dare provoke, yet cannot do us right, Like men, with huffing looks, that dare not fight!— But this reproach our courage must not daunt; The bravest soldier may a weapon want; Let her that doubts us still send her gallant. Ladies, in us you'll youth and beauty find: All things—but one—according to your mind: And when your eyes and ears are feasted here, Rise up, and make out the short meal elsewhere.



EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MRS REEVES TO THE MAIDEN QUEEN, IN MAN'S CLOTHES.

What think you, sirs, was't not all well enough? Will you not grant that we can strut and huff? Men may be proud; but faith, for aught I see, They neither walk, nor cock, so well as we; And, for the fighting part, we may in time Grow up to swagger in heroic rhyme; For though we cannot boast of equal force, Yet, at some weapons, men have still the worse. Why should not then we women act alone? Or whence are men so necessary grown? Our's are so old, they are as good as none. Some who have tried them, if you'll take their oaths, Swear they're as arrant tinsel as their clothes. Imagine us but what we represent, And we could e'en give you as good content. Our faces, shapes,—all's better then you see, And for the rest, they want as much as we. Oh, would the higher powers behind to us, And grant us to set up a female house! We'll make ourselves to please both sexes then,— To the men women, to the women men. Here, we presume, our legs are no ill sight, And they will give you no ill dreams at night: In dreams both sexes may their passions ease, You make us then as civil as you please. This would prevent the houses joining too, At which we are as much displeased as you; For all our women most devoutly swear, Each would be rather a poor actress here, Then to be made a Mamamouchi [A] there.

[Footnote A: Alluding to Ravenscroft's play of the "Citizen turned Gentleman," acted at the Duke's House in 1672 See Vol. IV. pp. 346, 356-7.]

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.