Written and spoken by Mr. GARRICK.
Why to this farce this title given, Of Seventeen Hundred Fifty Seven? Is it a register of fashions, Of follies, frailties, fav'rite passions? Or is't designed to make appear, How happy, good, and wise you were In this same memorable year? Sure with our author wit was scarce, To crowd so many virtues in a farce. Perhaps 'tis meant to make you stare,10 Like cloths hung out at country fair; On which strange monsters glare and grin, To draw the gaping bumpkins in. Though 'tis the genius of the age, To catch the eye with title-page; Yet here we dare not so abuse ye. We have some monsters to amuse ye.
Ye slaves to fashion, dupes of chance, Whom fortune leads her fickle dance: Who, as the dice, shall smile or frown,20 Are rich and poor, and up and down; Whose minds eternal vigils keep; Who, like Macbeth, have murdered sleep. Each modish vice this night shall rise, Like Banquo's Ghost, before your eyes;