My pride forbids it ever should be said [Takes off his mask. Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth? Whose only plot it is to break our noses; Whilst from below the trap-door demons rise And from above, the dangling deities. And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew? May rosin'd lightning blast me, if I do! No-I will act; I'll vindicate the stage: "Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!-soft; 'twas but a dream." ΙΟ 20 Ay, 'twas but a dream-for now there's no retreat ing; If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating. 'Twas thus that Æsop's stag—a creature blameless, Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless Once on the margin of a fountain stood, And cavill'd at his image in the flood. 30 "The deuce confound," he cries, "these drumstick shanks They never have my gratitude nor thanks; 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! My horns! I'm told horns are the fashion now." drew. "Hoicks! hark forward!" came thundering from be hind, He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind; He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; Is taught his former folly to deplore; 40 PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES. Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, [Taking a jump through the stage-door. |