A HOW CRITICAL MOMENT. OW capricious were Nature and Art to poor She was painting her cheeks at the time her nofe fell. EPILOGUE to Mrs. MANLEY'S LUCIUS. THE Female Author who recites to-day, An ill-bred boat-man, rough as waves and wind. } The The many-colour'd gentry there above, By turns are rul'd by tumult and by love : To you our author makes her soft request, She hopes from you-Pox take her hopes and fears ! I plead her fex's claim; what matters hers? We'll try the empire who fo long have boasted; We'll write to you, and make you write in rhyme; Your time, poor fouls! we'll take your very money; As long as we have eyes, or hands, or breath, We'll look, or write, or talk you all to death. } The The THIEF and the CORDELIER, a BALLAD; to the Tune of, King JOHN and the Abbot of CANTERBURY. WHO has e'er been at Paris, must needs know the Greve, The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave; Derry down, down, hey derry down, There Death breaks the fhackles which Force had put on; And the Hangman compleats what the Judge but begun; There the Squire of the Pad, and the Knight of the Poft, Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hopes no more croft. Derry down, &c. Great claims are there made, and great fecrets are known; And the king, and the law, and the thief, has his own; But my hearers cry out, What a duce doft thou ail? Cut off thy reflections; and give us thy tale. Derry down, &c. 'Twas there then, in civil respect to harsh laws, And for want of falfe witness to back a bad caufe, A Norman, though late, was oblig'd to appear: And who to affift, but a grave Cordelier ? Derry down, &c. VOL. I. T The The Squire, whose good grace was to open the scene, Seem'd not in great hafte that the show should begin : Now fitted the halter, now travers'd the cart; And often took leave, but was loth to depart. What frightens you thus, my good fon? fays the Prieft; You murder'd, are forry, and have been confeft. O father! my forrow will scarce fave my bacon: For 'twas not that I murder'd, but that I was taken. Derry down, &c. Pough! pr'ythee ne'er trouble thy head with fuch fancies: Rely on the aid you fhall have from Saint Francis : And what will folks fay, if they fee you afraid? It reflects upon me, as I knew not my trade: Courage, friend; for to-day is your period of forrow; And things will go better, believe me, to-morrow. To-morrow! our Hero replied in a fright: He that's hang'd before noon, ought to think of tonight. For Tell your beads, quoth the Prieft, and be fairly trufs'd up, you furely to-night shall in Paradife fup. Derry down, &c. Alas! Alas! quoth the Squire, howe'er fumptuous the treat, Parbleu! I fhall have little ftomach to eat ; I should therefore esteem it great favour and grace, That I would, quoth the Father, and thank you to boot; Then, turning about to the hangman, he faid, TO CHLOE. WH HILST I am scorch'd with hot defire, Your drops of pity on my fire, Alas! but make it fiercer burn. Ah! would you have the flame fuppreft, |