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"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER; OR THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT,"
Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the waiters.
The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs.
And quits her Nancy Dawson, for Che Faro:
Till, having lost in age the power to kill,
The bar-maid now for your protection prays,
"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER,"
Intended to be spoken by Mrs. Bulkley and Miss Catley.
Enters Mrs. BULKLEY, who curtsies very low as beginning to speak. Then enters Miss CatLEY, who stands full before her, and curtsies to the Audience.
HOLD, Ma'am, your pardon. What's your business here?
Yes, the Epilogue, my dear.
Sure you mistake, Ma'am. The Epilogue, I bring it.
Excuse me, Ma'am. The Author bid me sing it.
Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring,
Why, sure the girl's beside herself! an Epilogue of singing,
Besides, a sinner in a comic set
Excuse me, Ma'am, I know the etiquette.
And she whose party's largest shall proceed.
I've all the critics and the wits for me.
They, I am sure, will answer my commands;
I'm for a different set.
Old men, whose trade is
Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies.
Who mump their passion, aud who, grimly smiling,
Turn my fairest, turn, if ever
Yes I shall die, hu, hu, hu, bu.
Yes, I must die, ho, ho, ho, ho.
Let all the old pay homage to your merit;
Give me the young, the gay, the men of spirit.
Of French frisseurs and nosegays justly vain;
Who take a trip to Paris once a-year
To dress, and look like awkward Frenchmen here;
Their hands are only lent to the Heinelle.
Ay, take your travellers
Give me my bonny Scot, that travels from the Tweed.
AIR.-A bonny young Lad is my Jockey.
I sing to amuse you by night and by day,
With Sandy, and Sawney, and Jockey,
With Sawney, and Jarvie, and Jockey.
Ye gamesters, who, so eager in pursuit,
Ye jockey tribe, whose stock of words are few,
"My Lord, Your Lordship misconceives the case."
Assist my cause with hands and voices hearty,
Ye brave Irish lads, hark away to the crack,
Assist me, I pray, in this woful attack;
For sure I don't wrong you, you seldom are slack,
Still to amuse us inventive,
And death is your only preventive:
Your hands and your voices for me.
Well, Madam, what if, after all this sparring,
And that our friendship may remain unbroken,
And now with late repentance,
Un-epilogued the Poet waits his sentence.
To thrive by flattery, though he starves by wit.
"AH ME! WHEN SHALL I MARRY ME?"
Intended to have been sung in the Comedy of “She Stoops to Conquer."
Aн me! when shall I marry me?
Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me.
He, fond youth, that could carry me,
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.
But I will rally, and combat the ruiner:
Not a look, nor a smile shall my passion discover.
Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.
SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWES, IN THE CHARACTER OF HARLEQUIN, AT HIS BENEFIT.
HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense:
I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.
My pride forbids it ever should be said,
[Takes off his mask.
My heels eclips'd the honours of my head;