Chapter XIV: Epilogue: ,

Spoken by Mrs. +OLDFIELD+.

_Methinks I hear some powder'd Critics say,
"Damn it! this Wife Reform'd has spoil'd the play!
The coxcomb should have drawn her more in fashion, }
Have gratify'd her softer inclination, }
Have tipt her a gallant, and clinch'd the provocation." }
But there our Bard stopt short: for 'twere uncivil
T' have made a modern ~Belle~ all o'er a Devil!
He hop'd, in honour of the sex, the age
Would bear one mended woman----on the stage._

_From whence, you see by common sense's rules,
Wives might be govern'd, were not husbands fools.
Whate'er by Nature dames are prone to do,
They seldom stray but when they govern you.
When the wild wife perceives her deary tame,
No wonder then she plays him all the game.
But men of sense meet rarely that disaster;
Women take pride, where merit is their master:
Nay, she that with a weak man wisely lives,
Will seem t' obey the due commands he gives!
Happy obedience is no more a wonder,
When men are men, and keep them kindly under.
But modern consorts are such high-bred creatures,
They think a husband's power degrades their features;
That nothing more proclaims a reigning beauty,
Than that she never was reproach'd with duty;
And that the greatest blessing Heav'n e'er sent,
Is in a spouse, incurious and content.
To give such dames a diff'rent cast of thought,
By calling home the mind, these scenes were wrought.
If with a hand too rude, the task is done,
We hope the scheme by Lady ~Grace~ laid down,
Will all such freedom with the sex atone.
That virtue there unsoil'd, by modish art,
Throw out attractions for a ~Manly~'s heart._

_You, you, then Ladies, whose unquestion'd lives
Give you the foremost fame of happy wives,
Protect, for its attempt, this helpless play;
Nor leave it to the vulgar taste a prey;
Appear the frequent champions of its cause,
Direct the crowd and give yourselves applause._

_Sung by Mrs. ~=Cibber=~, in the Fourth Act._

The Words by =Mr. Carey=.

Oh, I'll have a husband! ay, marry;
For why should I longer tarry,
For why should I longer tarry
Than other brisk girls have done?
For if I stay, 'till I grow gray,
They'll call me old maid, and fusty old jade;
So I'll no longer tarry;
But I'll have a husband, ay, marry,
If money can buy me one.

My mother she says I'm too coming;
And still in my ears she is drumming,
And still in my ears she is drumming,
That I such vain thoughts shou'd shun.
My sisters they cry, oh fy! and oh fy!
But yet I can see they're as coming as me;
So let me have husbands in plenty:
I'd rather have twenty times twenty,
Than die an old maid undone.

_Sung by Mrs. ~=Cibber=~, in the Fifth Act._

The Words by =Mr. Carey=.