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For thought no higher wish of bliss can frame,
Let the young Austrian then her terrors bear,
hear. Minerva thus to Perseus lent her shield, Secure of conquest, sent him to the field; The hero acted what the Queen ordain'd So was his fame complete, and Andromede un
chain’d. Meantime amidst her native temples sate The goddess, studious of her Grecians' fate, Taught them in laws and letters to excel, In acting justly, and in writing well. Thus whilst she did her various power dispose, The world was freed from tyrants, wars, and woes; Virtue was taught in verse, and Athens'glory rose.
Represented by some of the Westminster Scholars, at Hick
ford's Dancing-Room, in Panton-Street, near Leicester Fields, the 2d of February, 1720.
What! would my humble comrades have me say,
be ask'd whose patent we act under?
Shall we procure you symphony and sound ? -
For the distress'd your pity we implore;
EPILOGUE TO PHÆDRA'.
SPOKEN BY MRS. OLDFIELD, WHO ACTED ISMENA. LADIES, to-night your pity I implore For one who never troubled you before ; An Oxford-man, extremely read in Greek, Who from Euripides makes Phædra speak, And comes to Town to let us Moderns know How women loved two thousand years'ago.
If that be all, (said I,) e'en burn your play; I'gad! we know all that as well as they: Show us the youthful, handsome charioteer, Firm in his seat, and running his career, Our souls will kindle with as generous flames As'e'er inspired the ancient Grecian dames ; Every Ismena would resign her breast, And every dear Hippolytus be bless'd.
• But as it is, six flouncing Flanders mares Are e'en as good as any two of theirs ; And if Hippolytus can but contrive To buy the gilded chariot, John can drive.'
Now of the bustle you have seen to-day, And Phædra’s morals in this scholar's play, Something at least in justice should be said ; But this Hippolytus so fills one's headWell! Phædra lived as chastly as she could, For she was Father Jove's own flesh and blood. Her awkward love, indeed, was oddly fated ; She and her Poly were too near related ;
| Phædra and Hippolytus, a tragedy, written by Mr. Edmund Smith.
And yet that scruple had been laid aside,
But if these gay reflections come too late
EPILOGUE TO LUCIUS'.
SPOKEN BY MRS. HORTON. The female Author who recites to-day, Trusts to her sex the merit of ber play. Like Father Bays, securely she sits down : Pit, box, and gallery, Gad! all's our own. In ancient Greece, she says, when Sappho writ, By their applause the critics show'd their wit; They tuned their voices to her lyric string, Though they could all do something more than sing. But one exception to this fact we find, That booby Phaon only was unkind, An ill-bred boatman, rough as waves and wind. From Sappho down through all succeeding ages, And now on French or on Italian stages, Rough satires, sly remarks, ill-natured speeches, Are always aim'd at poets that wear breeches. Arm'd with Longinus, or with Rapin, no man Drew a sharp pen upon a naked woman. The blustering bully in our neighbouring streets Scorns to attack the female that he meets ; Fearless, the petticoat contemns his frowns, The hoop secures whatever it surrounds. The many-colour'd gentry there above, By turns are ruled by Tumult and by Love, And while their sweethearts their attention fix, Suspend the din of their damn'd clattering sticks. Now, sirs, To you our Author makes her soft request, Who speak the kindest, and who write the best;
1 Lucius, the first Christian King of Britain, a tragedy, written by Mrs. Manley.