EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY M R. LE E LEWE S, IN THE CHARACTER OF HARLEQUIN, AT HIS BENEFIT. HOLD! OLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your I'd speak a word or two, to ease my confcience. My heels eclips'd the honours of my head; Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. [Takes off his mask. Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth? Nature difowns, and reafon fcorns thy mirth, In thy black aspect every paffion fleeps, The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps. How haft thou fill'd the fcene with all thy brood, Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu'd ! Whofe Whofe ins and outs no ray of fenfe difclofes, Aye, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreating 1 'Twas thus that Efop's ftag, 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, "thefe drumflick "thanks, 66 They never have my gratitude nor thanks; "They're perfectly difgraceful! ftrike me dead! "But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head. VOL. I. I "How 114 EPILOGUE. "How piercing is that eye! how fleek that brow! "My horns! I'm told horns are the fashion now.” Whilft thus he spoke, aftonish'd! to his view, Near, and more near, the hounds and huntfmen drew. Hoicks! hark forward! came thundering from be hind, He bounds aloft, outftrips the fleeting wind: [Taking a jump through the flage door. THI THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT. LOGICIAN GICIANS have but ill defin'd As rational the human mind; Reason, they fay, belongs to man, By Ratiocinations fpecious, Have ftrove to prove with great precifion, With definition and division, Homo eft ratione preditum ; But for my foul I cannot credit 'em. And must in spite of them maintain, That man and all his ways are vain; 116 THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. That instinct is a furer guide, Than reafon boafting mortals pride; And that brute beafts are far before 'em, Deus eft anima brutorum. Whoever knew an honeft brute, At law his neighbour profecute, They eat their meals, and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court, They never to the levee go To treat as dearest friend, a foe: They never importune his grace, Nor draw the quill to write for Bob, No judges, fidlers, dancing mafters, Brutes |