Epilogue to "The Sister" by Oliver Goldsmith

WHAT! five long acts-and all to make us wiser! / Our authoress sure has wanted an adviser. / Had she consulted _me_, she should have made / Her moral play a speaking masquerade; / Warm'd up each bustling scene, and in her rage / Have emptied all the green-room on the stage. / My life on't, this had kept her play from sinking; / Have pleas'd our eyes, and sav'd the pain of thinking. / Well! since she thus has shown her want of skill, / What if I give a masquerade? -I will.

But how? ay, there's the rub! (_pausing_)-I've got my cue: / The world's a masquerade! the maskers, you, you, you. / (_To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery._) / -- , what a group the motley scene discloses! / False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses! / Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em, / Patriots, in party-coloured suits, that ride 'em. / There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more / To raise a flame in Cupids of threescore. / These in their turn, with appetites as keen, / Deserting fifty, fasten on fifteen, / Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon, / Flings down her sampler, and takes up the woman: / The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure, / And tries to kill, ere she's got power to cure. / Thus 'tis with all-their chief and constant care / Is to seem everything but what they are. / Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on, / Who seems to have robb'd his vizor from the lion; / Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade, / Looking as who should say, D -- ! who's afraid? / (_Mimicking_)