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EPILOGUE BY MR. COLMAN

Spoken by Lady Teazle

I, who was late so volatile and gay,

Like a trade-wind must now blow all one way,
Bend all my cares, my studies, and my vows,
To one dull rusty weathercock-my spouse!
So wills our virtuous bard-the motley Bayes
Of crying epilogues and laughing plays!
Old bachelors, who marry smart young wives,
Learn from our play to regulate your lives:
Each bring his dear to town, all faults upon her-
London will prove the very source of honour.
Plunged fairly in, like a cold bath it serves,
When principles relax, to brace the nerves:
Such is my case; and yet I must deplore
That the gay dream of dissipation 's o'er.
And say, ye fair! was ever lively wife,
Born with a genius for the highest life,

Like me untimely blasted in her bloom,

Like me condemned to such a dismal doom?
Save money-when I just knew how to waste it!
Leave London-just as I began to taste it!

Must I then watch the early crowing cock,

The melancholy ticking of a clock;

In a lone rustic hall for ever pounded,

With dogs, cats, rats, and squalling brats surrounded? With humble curate can I now retire,

(While good Sir Peter boozes with the squire,)

And at backgammon mortify my soul,

That pants for loo, or flutters at a vole ?

Seven's the main! Dear sound that must expire,
Lost at hot cockles round a Christmas fire;
The transient hour of fashion too soon spent,
Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content!
Farewell the pluméd head, the cushioned tete,
That takes the cushion from its proper seat!
That spirit-stirring drum !—card drums I mean.
Spadille-odd trick-pam-basto-king and queen!

And you, ye knockers, that, with brazen throat,
The welcome visitors' approach denote;

Farewell all quality of high renown,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town!
Farewell your revels I partake no more,

And Lady Teazle's occupation 's o'er!

All this I told our bard; he smiled, and said 'twas clear I ought to play deep tragedy next year.

Meanwhile he drew wise morals from his play,

And in these solemn periods stalked away :—

"Blessed were the fair like you; her faults who stopped

And closed her follies when the curtain dropped!

No more in vice or error to engage,

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

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THE CRITIC

OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSED

A DRAMATIC PIECE IN THREE ACTS

TO MRS. GREVILLE

MADAM,-In requesting your permission to address the following pages to you, which, as they aim themselves to be critical, require every protection and allowance that approving taste or friendly prejudice can give them, I yet venture to mention no other motive than the gratification of private friendship and esteem. Had I suggested a hope that your implied approbation would give a sanction to their defects, your particular reserve, and dislike to the reputation of critical taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you refuse the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am not so ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposition in you. I shall not here presume to argue that the present state of poetry claims and expects every assistance that taste and example can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a fastidious concealment of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy is an ill return for the possession of those endowments. Continue to deceive yourself in the idea that you are known only to be eminently admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private friendships, and the graceful talents that adorn conversation. Enough of what you have written has stolen into full public notice to answer my purpose; and you will, perhaps, be the only person, conversant in elegant literature, who shall read this address and not perceive that by publishing your particular approbation of the following drama, I have a more interested object than to boast the true respect and regard with which I have the honour to be, Madam, your very sincere and obedient humble servant,

R. B. SHERIDAN

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