Classic Poem

Epilogue to the Apprentice

A very pretty bill — as I'm alive!
The part of — nobody — by Mrs. Clive!
A paltry scribbling fool — to leave me out —
He'll say, perhaps — he thought I cou'd not spout .
Malice and envy to the last degree!
And why? — I wrote a farce as well as he,
And fairly ventur'd it — without the aid
Of prologue dress'd in black, and face in masquerade;
Oh! Pit — have pity — see how I'm dismay'd!
Poor soul! this canting stuff will never do,
Unless like Bayes he brings his hangman too,
But granting that from these same obsequies,
Some pickings to our bard in black arise;
Should your applause to joy convert his fear,
As Pallas turns to feast — Lardella's bier ;
Yet 'twould have been a better scheme by half
T' have thrown his weeds aside, and learnt with me to laugh.
I cou'd have shewn him, had he been inclin'd,
A spouting junto of the female kind.
There dwells a milliner in yonder row,
Well-dress'd, full-voic'd, and nobly built for shew,
Who, when in rage she scolds at Sue and Sarah,
Damn'd, damn'd dissembler ! — thinks she's more than Zara.
She has a daughter too that deals in lace,
And sings — O ponder well — and Chevy Chase ,
And fain wou'd fill the fair Ophelia's place.
And in her cock'd up hat, and gown of camblet,
Presumes on something — touching the Lord Hamlet .
A cousin too she has with squinting eyes,
With wadling gait, and voice like London Cries ;
Who for the stage too short by half a story,
Acts Lady Townly — thus — in all her glory.
And while she's traversing her scanty room,
Cries — " Lord! my lord, what can I do at home! "
In short, we've girls enough for all the fellows,
The ranting, whining, starting and the jealous,
The Hotspurs, Romeos, Hamlets, and Othellos.
Oh! little do these silly people know,
What dreadful trials — actors undergo
Myself — who most in harmony delight,
Am scolding here from morning until night
Then take advice from me, ye giddy things,
Ye royal milliners, ye apron'd kings;
Young men beware, and shun our slippery ways,
Study arithmetic, and burn your plays;
And you, ye girls, let not our tinsel train
Enchant your eyes, and turn your madd'ning brain;
Be timely wise, for oh! be sure of this;
A shop with virtue, is the height of bliss.