EPILOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OF JULIA; OR THE ITALIAN LOVER. Intended for Miss FARREN. April, 1787

May I come in?—The Prompter bids me enter—. And yet, I vow, I'm half afraid to venture. " Be your eyes wet? yes, faith!—nay truce with sorrow! Julia's quite well, and dies again To-morrow. To-morow did I say? To-morrow's Sunday: So, if you please, she'll die again on Monday. I've heard the Tragedy with strict attention— The Tale they say is fact, and no invention: And while deep Criticks ponder on its merits, I'll tell you how it acted on my spirits.

As by the Scenes I took my silent stand, Each Act that past I hail'd this happy land! Bards who from history or fiction glean, Rarely in England place the Tragick Scene: Led by the Muse they sail o'er distant seas, Scale Alps on Alps, or pierce the Pyrenees: Abroad in search of Cruelties they roam; Follies and Frailties may be found at home. Passions in warmer climes that fiercely burn, Here lose their rancour, and to humours turn; Not cank'ring inwards with a treach'rous stealth, Break nobly out, and keep the soul in health. No Lovers here, contending for a Wife, Mix pois'nous bowls, or draw the murd'rer's knife; No Julia here should find her virgin fame Arraign'd for crimes she shudders but to name; Safe from such horrors in a generous nation, Where Madness only dreams Assassination. No! tho' the moonlight walk, and precious Picture, Conspire with jealous Fulvia to convict her; Tried, fairly tried, in our High Court of Drury, She'll stand acquitted by an English Jury.

Wise was the man, who each returning morn Thank'd his kind stars he was in England born; And wiser still the Fair, that lot possessing, Who proves she knows the value of the Blessing: With pity who beholds poor Julia's fate, Yet prizes, as she ought, her happier state; The charms of English worth who can discover, And never wish for an Italian Lover.

You've heard the tragedy with due attention— The tale they say is fact, and no invention. How ill our Bard has touch'd it, or how well, Many sage Criticks will precisely tell: Let me then, while they ponder on its merits, Say how it mov'd a Patriot Female's spirits,

While crimes like these on foreign records stand, How warmly must we hail this happy land!