EPILOGUE To the COMEDY called A FRIEND in NEED is a FRIEND Spoken by Mrs. BULKLEY. WOMAN, of all who feel the Hour of Need, Wants most, most rarely finds, a Friend Indeed; Doom'd in each fex, alas! by turns to prove Too well the Beldam knows the treach'rous art, "Then cafts her, like a loathfome weed, away." "Pooh! pooh! (cries Citpup) this is all a lie! "Poets and Painters will make free-Oh fie! "Poor fouls! they love to bounce, and think they railly; "Nothing but Truth and Honour in 'Change Alley! "Plump Marg'ry at a monstrous Premium went"Prodigious intereft-almoft Cent per Cent. ૬૮ "I found her poor, not bleft with Half a Crown; Stampther my own, and brought her upon Town"Made her as fine as hands, or gold, could make her "Built her a Coach-a grand one !-in Long-Acre! "Marg'ry's good fortunes all on me depend; "I ruin'd her-and am her only Friend." Happy the high-born fair, whose ample dower, Pours in her wealthy lap a Golden Shower! While many a friend, fincere no doubt, furrounds Her thousand charms-and hundred thoufand pounds: But fhe, who pines in want, whofe early bloom Deceit would canker, or Diftrefs confume, Let Let jealous fears her ev'ry step attend, And mark the Flatterer, from the real Friend! But He, whofe virtuous hand her wants supplies, Let Love and Gratitude his merits plead, PROLOGUE PROLOGUE, TO THE YOUNG YOUNG QUAKER, A COMEDY written by Mr. O'KEEFFE, OLD Crab, a Critick, looking o'er our Bill, Thus vents his angry Spleen, and rails his fill. "A Comedy!-The man's too bold by halfI can't bear Comedies that make me laugh. I doubt, my friend, he'll make both me and you fickFarce is his province, and a Farce with Mufick. Hay-market!-Zounds the Fellow makes me fretWhere's Mrs. Bannifter, Mifs George, and Brett? Edwin's fongs, fal, lal, tag, rag, all Concetto! Charles Bannister's bold Bafs, and droll Falsetto? Five Acts!-a bore!-and are his Scenes fo long, There's no room edgeways to fqueeze in a fong? Make it two Farces! Cut it in the middle! Nor play a Solo thus without a Fiddle.” Our Bard 'tis true firft woo'd the Publick here, And here their fmiles have oft difpell'd his fear: Of sportive Farce he seem'd the fav'rite Child, And with a fong your eafy ears beguil'd. To-night, To-night, not dreaming of a grand effay, } You then [to the Orchestra] whofe breath and refin'd bows in league Have pip'd, and scrap'd whole hours without fatigue, Take breath, to-night! Cease wind, and cat-gut fleep! Your lungs, your nimble elbows, quiet keep! And you [to the audience] who fit in many an aweful Row Enthron'd above [galleries] or on the Bench below; [Boxes. Good men and true of our Dramatick Pannel, [Pit. Let him be pardon'd! nor your verdict dread, And write hereafter-Comedies indeed! EPILOGUE |