Yon politician, famous in debate, If with a bribe his candour you attack, He bows, turns round, and whip-the man's in black! Yon critic, too—but whither do I run? EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY AND MISS CATLEY. Enter Mrs. Bulkley, who curtsies very low as beginning to speak. Then enter Miss Catley, who stands full before her, and curtsies to the audience. MRS. BULKLEY. HOLD, Ma'am, your pardon. What's your busi Sure MRS. BULKLEY. you mistake, Ma'am. The Epilogue I bring it. MISS CATLEY. Excuse me, Ma'am. The Author bid me sing it. RECITATIVE. Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring, Suspend your conversation while I sing. MRS. BULKLEY. Why sure the Girl's beside herself: an Epilogue of singing, A hopeful end indeed to such a blest beginning. Besides, a singer in a comic set! Excuse me, Ma'am; I know the etiquette. And she, whose party's largest, shall proceed. And first I hope, you'll readily agree I've all the critics and the wits for me. They, I am sure, will answer my commands; MISS CATLEY. I'm for a diff'rent set-Old men, whose trade is Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies. RECITATIVE. Who mump their passion, and who, grimly smiling, Still thus address the fair, with voice beguiling. AIR-COTILLON. Turn, my fairest, turn, if ever Strephon caught thy ravish'd eye: Who without your aid must die. Yes, I shall die, hu, hu, hu, hu, Yes, I must die, ho, ho, ho, ho. MRS. BULKLEY. Da capo. Let all the old pay homage to your merit : Give me the young, 'the gay, the men of spirit. Ye travell❜d tribe, ye macaroni train, Of French friseurs, and nosegays, justly vain, To dress, and look like aukward Frenchmen here, MISS CATLEY. Ay, take your travellers, travellers indeed! Give me my bonny Scot, that travels from the Where are the cheels? Ah, ah, I well discern AIR. I'll sing to amuse you by night and by day, With Sandy, and Sawney, and Jockey, With Sawney, and Jarvie, and Jockey. MRS. BULKLEY. Ye gamesters, who, so eager in pursuit, |