EPILOGUE TO MR. ROWE'S JANE SHORE. DESIGNED FOR MRS. OLDFIELD. RODIGIOUS this! the Frail-one of our Play PRODIG From her own Sex fhould mercy find to-day! Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull, "How ftrangely you expose yourself, my dear?" Our fex are still forgiving at their heart; There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale, The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns, 6 II 15 20 Would Would you enjoy foft nights and folid dinners? Faith, gallants, board with faints, and bed with finners. 25 30 He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving, 39 To lend a Wife, few here would fcruple make, 35 NOTES. ye, 45 Το VER. 44. Who ne'er faw] A fly and oblique ftroke on the fuicide of Cato; which was one of the reasons, as I have been informed, why this epilogue was not spoken. VER. 46. Edward's Mifs] Sir Thomas More fays, fhe had one accomplishment uncommon in a woman of that time; she could read and write. To fee a piece of failing flesh and blood, In all the rest so impudently good; Faith, let the modest Matrons of the town 49 Come here in crouds, and ftare the ftrumpet down. Thomfon in his Epilogue to Tancred and Sigifmunda feverely cenfures the flippancy and gaiety of modern Epilogues, as contrary to those impreffions intended to be left on the mind by a well-written tragedy. The last new part Mrs. Oldfield took in tragedy was in Thomfon's Sophonisba; and it is recorded that she spoke the following line; Not one bafe word of Carthage for thy foul, in fo powerful a manner, that Wilkes, to whom it was addreffed, was aftonished and confounded. Mrs. Oldfield was admitted to vifit in the beft families. George II. and Queen Caroline, when Princess of Wales, condescended sometimes to converse with her at their levees. And one day the Princess asked her if she was married to General Churchill; "So it is faid, may it please your Highness, but we have not owned it yet." Her Lady Betty Modifh, and Lady Townly, have never yet been equalled. She was univerfally allowed to be well-bred, fenfible, witty, and generous. She gave poor Savage an annual penfion of fifty pounds. And it is strange that Dr. Johnson feems rather to approve of Savage's having never celebrated his benefactress in any of his poems. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. |