PROLOGUE TO I'LL TELL YOU WHAT! A COMEDY, written by Mrs. INCHBALD. Spoken by Mr. PALMER. August, 1785

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'll tell you what! Yet not, like Ancient Prologue, tell the plot— But, like a Modern Prologue, try each way To win your favour towards the coming play.

Our author is a Woman; that's a charm, Of power to guard Herself and Play from harm. The Muses, Ladies-Regent of the Pen, Grant women skill, and force, to write like men. Yet They, like the Aeolian Maid of old, Their Sex's Character will ever hold; Not with bold Quill too roughly strike the lyre, But with the Feather raise a soft desire.

Our Poetess has gain'd sublimest heights! Not Sappho's self has soar'd to nobler flights! For She, bright spirit, the first British fair, Climb'd, unappall'd, the unsubstantial air: And here, beneath the changes of the Moon, Wond'ring you saw her launch a grand Balloon; While she with steady course, and flight not dull, Paid a short visit to the Great Mogul. Shrink not, Nabobs! our Poetess to-night, Wakes not the Genius of Sir Matthew Mite. Beyond our hemisphere she will not roam, Keeps in the Line, and touches nearer home: Nay will not, as before, howe'er you scorn her, Reach e'en the tunpike-gate at Hyde-Park-Corner. But hold!—I say too much—I quite forgot— And so, I'll tell you—no—SHE'LL tell you what!