They’re perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead! But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head. How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow! 35 My horns! I’m told horns are the fashion now.’ Whilst thus he spoke, astonish’d, to his view, Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew. ‘Hoicks! hark forward!’ came thund’ring from behind, He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind: 40 He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze. At length his silly head, so priz’d before, Is taught his former folly to deplore; Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, 45 And at one bound he saves himself,—like me. (_Taking a jump through the stage door._) EPILOGUE INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’ _Enter_ MRS. BULKLEY, _who curtsies very low as beginning to speak. Then enter_ MISS CATLEY, _who stands full before her, and curtsies to the audience._ MRS. BULKLEY. HOLD, Ma’am, your pardon. What’s your business here? MISS CATLEY. The Epilogue. MRS. BULKLEY. The Epilogue? MISS CATLEY. Yes, the Epilogue, my dear. MRS. BULKLEY. Sure you mistake, Ma’am. The Epilogue, _I_ bring it. MISS CATLEY. Excuse me, Ma’am. The Author bid _me_ sing it. _Recitative._ Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring, 5 Suspend your conversation while I sing. MRS. BULKLEY. Why, sure the girl’s beside herself: an Epilogue of singing, A hopeful end indeed to such a blest beginning. Besides, a singer in a comic set!— Excuse me, Ma’am, I know the etiquette. 10 MISS CATLEY. What if we leave it to the House? MRS. BULKLEY. The House!—Agreed. MISS CATLEY. Agreed. MRS. BULKLEY. And she, whose party’s largest, shall proceed. And first I hope, you’ll readily agree I’ve all the critics and the wits for me. They, I am sure, will answer my commands: 15 Ye candid-judging few, hold up your hands. What! no return? I find too late, I fear, That modern judges seldom enter here. MISS CATLEY. I’m for a different set.—Old men, whose trade is Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies;— 20 _Recitative._ Who mump their passion, and who, grimly smiling, Still thus address the fair with voice beguiling:— _Air—Cotillon._