'Twas thus that Æsop's stag—a creature blameless, Yet fomething vain, like one that shall be nameless — Once on the margin of a fountain stood,

And cavill'd at his image in the flood:

'The deuce confound,' he cries, 'these drumstick shanks, They never have my gratitude nor thanks; "They're perfectly difgraceful! ftrike me dead!'But, for a head-yes, yes, I have a head. 'How piercing is that eye! how fleek that brow! 'My horns!-I'm told horns are the fashion now.' Whilft thus he spoke, astonish'd! to his view, Near and more near, the hounds and huntfinen drew; 'Hoicks! hark forward!' came thund'ring from behind, He bounds aloft, outftrips the fleeting wind: He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze. At length his filly head, fo priz'd before, Is taught his former folly to deplore; Whilft his strong limbs confpire to fet him free, And at one bound he faves himfelf-like me.

(Taking a jump through the stage-door.)

EPILOGUE

TO THE COMEDY OF THE SISTERS.

WHAT! five long acts—and all to make us wiser!

Our authoress fure has wanted an adviser.

Had the confulted me, fhe should have made
Her moral play a speaking masquerade;
Warm'd up each bustling scene, and in her rage

Have emptied all the green-room on the stage.

My life on't, this had kept her play from finking—
Have pleas'd our eyes, and fav'd the pain of thinking.
Well, fince the thus has fhewn her want of skill,
What if I give a masquerade?—I will.

But how? ay, there's the rub! (paufing) I've got my cue: The world's a masquerade! the masquers,you,you,you. (To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery.)

Lud! what a group the motley scene discloses!
Falfe wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses!
Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em,
Patriots in party-colour'd fuits that ride 'em.
There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more
To raise a flame in Cupids of threescore.
These in their turn, with appetites as keen,
Deferting fifty, faften on fifteen.

Mifs, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon,
Flings down her fampler, and takes up the woman:
The little urchin fmiles, and spreads her lure,
And tries to kill, ere fhe's got power to cure.
Thus 'tis with all-their chief and conftant care
Is to feem every thing-but what they are.
Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on,
Who feems to have robb'd his vizor from the lion ;
Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade,
Looking, as who fhould fay, dam'me! who's afraid?
(Mimicking.)

Strip but this vizor off, and fure I am
You'll find his lionship a very lamb.
Yon politician, famous in debate,
Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, beftrides the state;
Yet, when he deigns his real shape t'assume,
He turns old woman, and bestrides a broom.

Yon patriot, too, who preffes on your fight,
And feems to every gazer, all in white-

If with a bribe his candour you attack,

He bows, turns round, and whip-the man in black! Yon critic, too-but whither do I run?

If I proceed, our bard will be undone;

Well then a truce, since she requests it too—
Do you spare her, and I'll for once spare you.

FINIS.

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