EPILOGUE, Spoken at the THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY-LANE, April 30, 1765. By Miss HOPKINS a Child of Six Years old…

NAY—but I must.—I must, indeed, Papa! Pray, let me go! what signifies Mama?—

Your Servant, Gentlemen! your Servant, Ladies! Papa's the Prompter—but to Act my Trade is: And though my size is small, my years but few, I'll warrant, he shall find I know my Cue.

Females of ev'ry Age have leave to tattle; Why may not I then, like my elders, prattle? Mama indeed cries, "Hush, you little Elf! " Prithee be silent!—I'll talk all myself." —But let her know, my Tongue as hers is nimble, And I had rather use it than my Thimble; Had rather gossip, speak a part, or wheedle, Than darn, or wound my singers with a needle. A Sempstress? No. A Princess let me be, In all the pomp and state of Tragedy! A Princess, with a Page, and sweeping Train, A Bowl, a Dagger, and a Lover slain! Oh how I'll rant! how loud I'll be, and glibber Than Yates, or Pritchard, Bellamy, or Cibber! If for the Buskin you object my size, Why Garrick's little—but has piercing Eyes. And so have I—But I'm too young you'll say. Ah, Sirs! I shall grow older ev'ry day: And they that now my faint endeavours spare, Miss in her Teens shall thank them for their care.