PROLOGUE, Written by a FRIEND

The scribbling gentry, ever frank, and free, To sweep the stage with prologues, fix on Me. A Female representative I come, And with a prologue, which I call a broom, To brush the critic cobwebs, from the room. Critics, like spiders, into corners creep, And at new plays their bloody revels keep; With some small venom, close in ambush lie, Ready to seize the poor dramatic Fly: The weak and heedless soon become their prey; But the strong Blue bottle will force its way, Clean well its wings, and hum, another day. Unknown to nature's laws, we've here one evil, For Flies, turn'd Spiders, play the very devil! But why chuse me, to fill a woman's place? Have I about me any female grace, Sweetness of smile, or lily-dimpled face? Whate'er I have, I'll try my winning ways, Low'ring my voice, and rising from my stays; Warm with anxiety, this hat my fan, I'm now an Auth'ress, and no longer man. The ladies, I am sure, my brat will spare, For I'm not young, nor am I over fair; Assemblies, balls, deck'd out, I ne'er appear at, My husband is the only man I leer at. Ye Beaux, whose minds are flimzy as your shapes, Who scorn all writing, as the fox the grapes; Let not a woman's faults ill humours breed, I own my failings—I both write, and read. Sit still, two hours, for one not fair, nor young! You would not wait for Venus, half so long. Could I please You, and YOU, more patient folks, With some small nature, and some harmless jokes; These splendid rows would not their mite deny, They will, as well as you, both laugh and sigh, Sigh, when you laugh, and laugh, whene'er you cry. Ye Soldiers, Sailors, valiant as you're free, O lend your aid, protect my babe, and me! Cowards spare none; but you, the truly brave; Women, and children, will for ever save! Here ends my task—and for our last expedient— The auth'ress makes you this —and this