EPILOGUE
To
MARY
,
Queen
of
SCOTS
.
Design'd
to
be
spoken
by
Mrs.
OLDFIELD
.
By
the
Same
.
WHAT
cou'd
luxurious
woman
wish
for
more
,
To
fix
her
joys
,
or
to
extend
her
pow'r
?
Their
every
wish
was
in
this
Mary
seen
,
Gay
,
witty
,
youthful
,
beauteous
,
and
a
queen
.
Vain
useless
blessings
with
ill
conduct
join'd
!
Light
as
the
air
,
and
fleeting
as
the
wind
.
Whatever
poets
write
,
and
lovers
vow
,
Beauty
,
what
poor
omnipotence
hast
thou
!
Queen
Bess
had
wisdom
,
council
,
power
,
and
laws
;
How
few
espous'd
a
wretched
beauty's
cause
!
Learn
thence
,
ye
fair
,
more
solid
charms
to
prize
,
Contemn
the
idle
flatt'ters
of
your
eyes
.
The
brightest
object
shines
but
while
'tis
new
;
That
influence
lessens
by
familiar
view
.
Monarchs
and
beauties
rule
with
equal
sway
,
All
strive
to
serve
,
and
glory
to
obey
;
Alike
unpitied
when
depos'd
they
grow
—
Men
mock
the
idol
of
their
former
vow
.
Two
great
examples
have
been
shown
to-day
,
To
what
sure
ruin
passion
does
betray
;
What
long
repentance
to
short
joys
is
due
;
When
reason
rules
,
what
glory
does
ensue
.
If
you
will
love
,
love
like
Eliza
then
;
Love
for
amusement
,
like
those
traytors
men
.
Think
that
the
pastime
of
a
leisure
hour
She
favour'd
oft
—
but
never
shar'd
her
pow'r
.
The
traveller
by
desart
wolves
pursu'd
,
If
by
his
art
the
savage
foe's
subdu'd
,
The
world
will
still
the
noble
act
applaud
,
Tho'
victory
was
gain'd
by
needful
fraud
.
Such
is
,
my
tender
sex
,
our
helpless
case
;
And
such
the
barbarous
heart
,
hid
by
the
begging
face
.
By
passion
fir'd
,
and
not
with-held
by
shame
,
They
cruel
hunters
are
;
we
,
trembling
game
.
Trust
me
,
dear
ladies
,
(
for
I
know
'em
well
)
They
burn
to
triumph
,
and
they
sigh
to
tell
:
Cruel
to
them
that
yield
,
cullies
to
them
that
sell
.
Believe
me
,
'tis
by
far
the
wiser
course
,
Superior
art
should
meet
superior
force
:
Hear
,
but
be
faithful
to
your
int'rest
still
:
Secure
your
hearts
—
then
fool
with
whom
you
will
.