Now all are dead that were to die to Day,
And my Dadda has moraliz'd the Play,
One would have thought there was no more to say;
But, thank good Friends, we better taught have been;
They tell us Mirth must close the Tragic Scene,
For fear the Beaux should bear away the Spleen.
Whate'er the Play, the Epilogue should burst 'em —
So all the Learn'd affirm, the unlearn'd trust 'em,
Well — We obsequiously submit to Custom.

Thus leaving all Disputes to Drama-Factors ,
Ladies, let's criticise on these young Actors!
These Blades, who, void of Greek , well read in Plato ,
Without Philosophy pretend to copy Cato !
What send a Woman to apologize?
No — mimic Romans — I shall tell no Lies —

The Romans , Ladies, were a sturdy Nation;
They frequently sent forth some new Plantation;
Where'er they saw uncultivated Ground,
With Manners, and with Men, they stock'd it round;
At Honour's Call in shining Steel they harness'd;
They lov'd, they fought, they did all Things in earnest —
These are mere Shadows of that mighty People,
Mimic'd by them, as Nisus by a Cripple —
( Nisus , as learned Virgil tells the Story,
Run e'er so swift, would always run before ye.)
But 'tis a Scandal to compare 'em so —
An ancient Roman , and a modern Beau!
'Tis like the Sun against a Farthing Candle!
'Tis like my Arm against this puny Handle!

And then that Juba , that polite Numidian ,
In all this mighty Bustle what has he done?
'Tis true, he drew his Sword, he slew his Man;
But 'twas a Pigmy fought against a Crane!
L — d, had we had some true Sempronius here,
Such as I've mention'd, and as Romans were,
He'd soon have made the gay Sir Fopling totter;
For Marcia 's Part, he bravely must have got her!

And, Ladies, where had then been Marcia 's loss?
A Hero for a Beau, a mighty Cross!

Well — to conclude — The World is all a Stage;
The Fool in Public oft appears a Sage;
Vain Coxcombs may impose upon the Grave;
And Cowards find a Time to dare the Brave;
But who in private Life can play the Roman ,
'Tis he's the Man to please an English Woman.