But to the point: in this reforming age We have intent to civilise the stage. Our women are defective, and so sized You'd think they were some of the guard disguised; For, to speak truth, men act, that are between Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen; With bone so large and nerve so incompliant. When you call Desdemona, _enter giant_. The prologue concludes with a promise, which certainly was not kept, that the drama should be purged of all offensive matter: And when we've put all things in this fair way, Barebones himself may come to see a play. In the epilogue the spectators were asked: "How do you like her?"--especial appeal being made to those among the audience of the gentler sex: But, ladies, what think _you_? For if you tax Her freedom with dishonour to your sex, She means to act no more, and this shall be No other play but her own tragedy. She will submit to none but your commands, And take commission only from your hands. The ladies, no doubt, applauded sufficiently, and "women-actors" from that time forward became more and more secure of their position in the theatre. At the same time it would seem that there lingered in the minds of many a certain prejudice against them, and that some apprehension concerning the reception they might obtain from the audience often occupied the managers. A prologue to the second part of Davenant's "Siege of Rhodes," acted in April, 1662, demonstrates that the matter had still to be dealt with cautiously. Indulgence is besought for the bashful fears of the actresses, and their shrinking from the judgment and observation of the wits and critics is much dwelt upon.