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ON the 10th of January, 1777, the Comedy of the Provok'd Hufband was acted, at a New Theatre, near Henley upon Thames, by the following per

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MOST raw recruits, in times of Peace appear

To brave all dangers, and to mock at fear;

But when call'd forth to tread th' embattl'd plain,
They fairly with themselves at home again.

Whilft hardy vet'rans, long inur'd to arms,
Hear, unappall'd, the battle's loud alarms.

Thus we, unpractis'd in the stage's arts,
Have, without fear, rehears'd our various parts,
Talk'd wond'rous big of our theatric feats,
And dar'd the cenfures of the vacant feats.
But now, alas! the cafe is alter'd quite,
When fuch an audience opens on the fight;
Garrick himself, in fuch a fituation,

(Tho' fure to pleafe) might feel fome palpitation.
Our anxious breafts no fuch prefumption cheers,
Light are our hopes, but weighty are our fears;
So (for 'tis now too late to quit the field)
We to your judgment at discretion yield;
O then be merciful: the fault's not ours,
If, with a wish to please, we want the pow'rs.

EPILOGUE,

WRITTEN BY MR. COLMAN, FOR LADY WRONG.. HEAD, AND ALTERED FOR MANLY.

SPOKEN BY MR. MILLES.

I FEAR the Ladies think my last night's dealing Betray'd a heart quite destitute of feeling;

Who

Who to my married friends fuch lessons gave,
As make each husband think his wife a flave :
So, doctor-like, I took an early round,

And just step in to tell you that I found
My Lady Townly quite to health reftor'd,
And coufin Wronghead's pulfe is vaftly lower'd ;
The firft, whose bosom grateful Friendship warm'd,
Thus spoke the dictates of a heart reform'd :
"Sick of my follies, faithful to my vows
"I'm now re-married to my noble spouse ;
"Ladies there are at this may feel remorse,
"And find perhaps more charms in a divorce.
"I've trod the giddy round, and don't deplore,
"That the gay dream of diffipation's o'er:
"But Lady Wronghead ftill bewails her fate,
"And fighs for fplendor, equipage and state.
"Farewel, dear fcenes, the cried; was ever wife,
"Born with a genius for the gayest life,
"Like me untimely blafted in her bloom-
"Like me condemn'd to fuch a difmal doom?
"No London-when I just began to taste it;
"No money-when I just knew how to waste it.
"Farewel--the high-plum'd head, the cushion'd tete,
"Which takes the cushion from its prop❜rer feat.
"Seven is the main !-that found must now expire,
"Loft at hot cockles, round a Christmas fire.

The lines marked with inverted Commas were in the original..

"Farewel

Farewel-dear fcenes, where late fuch joys I knew, Drefs, cards, and dice, I bid ye all adieu ! "Those joys thus vanish'd, I shall taste no more; } "For Lady Wronghead's occupation's o'er.

"' How shall I drag out life, and how, alas!
"Shall tedious country winter evenings pafs."

Dear Ma'am, I faid, your groundless fears difmifs, I have a thought a new one-it is this: Shall we come down, and try to act a play? A play!-and what d'ye think the wits will fay? Unheard, with keenest satire they'll decry it, "Turn all to farce, and swear 'tis vain to try it.”

Avaunt, fuch wits! who, with ill-judging spleen, Shall rudely strive to blaft the well-meant fcene. Far happier he, his faults, like us, who flops, And checks his follies when the curtain drops. No more in vice or error to engage,

And play the fool at large on life's great stage.

VOL. VI.

C

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

TO THE FRENCH

PIECE OF PYGMALION, PER

FORMED BY MONSIEUR TESSIER.

SPOKEN BY LORD MALDEN.

As fome there are who may not know the ftory, Which the French Poet means to lay before ye, I'll tell you in plain English what he says:

A young unmarried Prince, in former days,
Long rail'd at wedlock, but could never find
In all the fex a woman to his mind :

Some were too fhort, and others were too tall;`
Too fat, too thin, there were fome fault in all.
Tir'd with the fruitless fearch, at length, he cried,
Art fhall fupply what Nature has denied ;
I'll make a faultless maid. So faid, fo done,
Just to his taste he forin'd a maid of stone;
Th' enraptur'd artift as her charms he view'd,
Stood by the magic of his art fubdu'd :

But yet he was a piece of mere ftill life,
And fomething more he wanted in a wife.

A wife he thought fome little warmth fhould fhare, (Are there none here whofe wives have fome to spare?) He kifs'd her oft; but, ah! how cold the kifs,

Especially in fuch a night as this.

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