The false count, or, A new way to play an old game as it is acted at the Duke's Theatre / written by Mrs. A. Behn.

EPILOGUE

Spoken by Mrs. Barry. Made by a Person of Quality.

I Come not a Petitioner to sue, This Play the Author has writ down to you; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a slight 〈◊〉〈◊〉, sive days brought sorth with ease, So very foolish that it needs must please; For though each day good Judges take offence, And 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Armes in Comedy's defence, You are still true to your J•…•…ck Pudding Sense. No 〈◊〉〈◊〉 can miss your Approbation, You love it as you do a new French Fashion: •…•…hus in true hate of Sense, and Wit's despight, Bantring and Shamming is your dear deligh: Thus among all the •…•…ollys here abounding, None took like the new Ape-trick of Dumsounding. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to make People laugh the business be, You Sparks better Comedians are than we; You 〈◊〉〈◊〉 day out sool ev'n Nokes and Lee. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 forc'd to stop and their own 〈◊〉〈◊〉 quit, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 admire the Merr•…•… And•…•… of the Pit; But if your mirth so grate the Critique's ear, Your Love •…•…ill 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more •…•…lequin appear. —You 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the Boxes, You 〈◊〉〈◊〉 d Ruines of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Wine and Poxes; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 strange Green sickness do you hope in Women 〈◊〉〈◊〉 make 'em 〈◊〉〈◊〉 old 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in new point Linnen; The Race of Life you run off-hand too sast, Your 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is too hot to last; Your Feavers come so thick, your claps so plenty, Most of you are threescore at five and twenty. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 town 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 know you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 enough, Your •…•…urting Women's like your taking Snuss;

〈◊〉〈◊〉 of meer Idleness you keep a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, You've no more need of one than of the other. 〈◊〉〈◊〉— Wou'd you be quit of their insipid noise, And vain pretending, take a fool's advice; Of the faux Braves 〈◊〉〈◊〉 had some little trial, There's nothing gives 'em credit but denyal: As when a Coward will pretend to Hussing. Offer to sight, away sneaks Bully-Russin. So when these Sparks, whose business is addressing, In Love pursuites grow troublesome and pressing. When they affect to keep still in your eye, When they send Grisons every where to spye, And full of Coxcomb dress and Ogle high; Seem to receive their Charge, and face about, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pawn my life they never stand it out.

FINIS.