EPILOGUE. Written by Mr. GARRICK. Spoken by Mrs. YATES

Old times, old fashions, and the Fairies gone; Let us return, good folks, to sixty-one— To this blest time, ye Fair, of female glory, When pleasures unforbidden lie before ye! No Sprites to fright you now, no guardian Elves; Your wise directors are—your own dear selves— And every Fair One feels, from old to young, While these your guides—you never can do wrong. Weak were the sex of yore—their pleasures few— How much more wife, more spirited are You? Would any Lady Jane, or Lady Mary, Ere they did this or that, consult a Fairy? Would they permit this saucy pigmy crew, For each small slip, to pinch 'em black and blue? Well may you shudder—for, with all your charms, Were this the case—good heaven, what necks and arms!

Thus did they serve our grandames heretofore— The very thought must make us moderns sore! Did their pour hearts for cards or dancing beat, These Elves rais'd blisters on their hands and feet: Tho' Loo the game, and fiddles play'd most sweetly— They could not squeeze dear Pam, nor foot Moll Peatly. Were wives with husbands but a little wilful, Were they at that same Loo a little skilful; Did they with pretty fellows laugh or sport— Wear ruffs too small, or petticoats too short: Did they, no matter how, disturb their cloaths; Or, ever-lilied, add a little rose!— These spiteful Fairies rattled round their beds, And put strange frightful nonsense in their heads! Nay, while the husband snor'd and prudish aunt, Had the fond wife but met the dear gallant— Tho' lock'd the door, and all as still as night— Pop thro' the key-hole whips the Fairy Sprite, Trips round the room—"My husband!" madam cries— "The devil! where!" the frighted beau replies— Jumps thro' the window—she calls out in vain— He, cur'd of love—and cool'd with drenching rain, Swears—"Dem him if he'll e'er intrigue again!" These were their tricks of old—But all allow, No childish fears disturb our Fair Ones now.—

Ladies, for all this trifling, 'twould be best To keep a little Fairy in your breast: Not one that should with moderate passions war; But just to tweak you—when you go too far.