EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY M R. LEE LEWE S, IN THE CHARACTER OF HARLEQUIN, AT HIS BENEFIT. HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonfenfe ; I'd speak a word or two, to ease my confcience. My heels eclips'd the honours of my head; Or ever thought that jumping was a jeft. [Takes off his mask. Whence, and what art thou, vifionary birth? Nature difowns, and reafon fcorns thy mirth, In thy black afpect every paffion fleeps, The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps. How haft thou fill'd the scene with all thy brood, Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu’d! Whofe Whofe ins and outs no ray of sense discloses, Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme: Give me another horfe! bind up my wounds! foft-'twas but a dream. Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating: If I ceafe Harlequin, I ceafe from eating. 'Twas thus that Æfop's ftag, a creature blameless, Yet fomething 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," thefe drum 66 "stick shanks, They never have my gratitude nor thanks; "They're perfectly disgraceful! ftrike me dead! "But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head. "How "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 huntfmen drew. Hoicks! hark forward! came thundering from be hind, He bounds aloft, outftrips the fleeting wind: Whilft his strong limbs conspire to set him free, [Taking a jump through the ftage door. THE THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT. LOGICIANS have but ill defin’d As rational the human mind; Reason, they say, belongs to man, By Ratiocinations specious, Have ftrove to prove with great precifion, With definition and divifion, Homo eft ratione preditum ; But for my foul I cannot credit 'em. Is both a weak and erring creature. That That inftinct is a furer guide, Than reafon-boafting mortals pride; And that brute beasts are far before 'em, Whoever knew an honest brute, Bring action for affault and battery, They eat their meals, and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court, They never to the levee go To treat as dearest friend, a foe: They never importune his grace, Nor ever cringe to men in place; Nor draw the quill to write for Bob, No judges, fidlers, dancing masters, Brutes |