Lord, what a sultry climate am I under↓ Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder [Upper gallery. There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seep 'em [Pit. Here trees of stately size, and billing turtles in 'em [Balconies. Here ill-condition'd oranges abound- [Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground: [Tasting them, The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear : His honor is no mercenary, trader. This is his first adventure, lend him aid: And we may chance to drive a thriving trade. His goods, he hopes, are prime, and bro't from far, Equally fit for gallantry and war. What, no reply to promises so ample? -I'd best step back, and order up a sample. EPILOGUE; Spoken by MR. LEE LEWES, IN THE CHARACTER OF HARLEQUIN, AT MIS BENEFIT. HOLD! prompter, hold! a word before your non sense; I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience, [Takes of his mask. 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. Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no re treating : If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating. 'Twas thus that Æsop's stag, a creature blame less, 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 drum stick shanks, They neither have my gratitude nor thanks : Hoicks! hark forward came thundering from behind; He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind: 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. EPILOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF THE SISTERS. What! five long acts-and all to make us wiser! Well, since she thus has shown her want of skill, But how? ay, there's the rub! [pausing]-I've got my cue! The world's a masquerade; the masquers, you, you, you. [To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery. Lud! what a group the motley scene discloses ! False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses! Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em, Patriots in party-colored suits that ride 'em. There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon, man; The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure, And tries to kill, ere she's got power to cure. Thus 'tis with all-their chief and constant care Is, to seem every thing but what they are. Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on, Who seems t'have robb'd his vizor from the lion; Who frowus, and talks, and swears, with round parade, afraid? Looking, as who should say, Dam'me! who's Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, bestrides the state; black! Yon critic too-but whither do I run? Well, then, a truce, since she requests it too : |