Classic Poem

Prologue by Sir R. Steel.

Spoken by a Lad in Girls Cloaths, before Tamerlane.

Old Horace says, A Man who us'd t' expose
Coxcombs, bestow'd upon them gaudy cloaths.
Hence they'd grow wild & gay, Gallants profess,
And alter all their conduct with their Dress.
If such Ills 'rose from being but better clad,
What comes from dressing like a Girl, a Lad?
With my new Garb, I must confess the Change;
No more I think o'er Hedge & Ditch to range;
No: I grew nice, as I ungrew a boy,
And am a Lady — Delicate — & Coy.
Stand off Companions; I'm no more the same.
My Lips are Coral & my Eyes are flame.
No more I'll kick & Cuff who e'er advances,
But keep your distance, as you fear my Glances.
Behold with Awe, with Transport & Surprise
The Cupids in my Fan — & in my Eyes;
While I indifferent stand tho' deeply fir'd
With the Close bliss of being much admir'd.
Not all the Future Honours of the Gown
Should me my Fate reserve for such renown
Could on my rising thoughts such Joys bestow
As in my Female ornaments I know.
Tho I should wear in Learned Trappings vain
As Prelate, or as Chancellor my Train,
T' would be to scanty Dignity to stoop
After this Ample Petticoat & Hoop.