EPILOGUE. WRITTEN BY DR. GARTH. WHAT odd fantastic things we women do? To give you pain, themselves they punish most. Too oft they're cancell'd, though in convents made. We give to merit, and to wealth we sell: Blame not our conduct, since we but pursue What pains to get the gaudy things you hate, When words were artless, and the thoughts sinceré : And eyes The fair shall listen to desert alone, THE END. THE DISTREST MOTHER. TRAGEDY. TRANSLATED BY AMBROSE PHILIPS, FROM THE ANDROMAQUE OF RACINE. ADAPTED FOR THEATRICAL REPRESENTATION, AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES-ROYAL, DRURY-LANE, AND COVENT-GARDEN. REGULATED FROM THE PROMPT-BOOKS, "The Lines distinguished by inverted Commas, are omitted in the Representation.'' LONDON: Printed for the Proprietors, under the Direction of JOHN BELL, British Library, STRAND, Bookseller to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. M DCC XCI. ΤΟ HER GRACE THE DUTCHESS OF MONTAGUE. MADAM, THIS tragedy, which I do myself the honour to dedicate to your Grace, is formed upon an original, which passes for the most finished piece, in this kind of writing, that has ever been produced in the French language. The principal action and main distress of the play is of such a nature, as seems more immediately to claim the patronage of a lady: And, when I consider the great and shining characters of antiquity, that are celebrated in it, I am naturally directed to inscribe it to a person, whose illustrious father has, by a long series of glorious actions, (for the service of his country, and in defence of the liberties of Europe,) not only surpassed the generals of his own time, but equalled the greatess heroes of former ages. The name of Hector could not be more terrible among the Greeks, than that of the duke of Marlborough has been to the French. The refined taste you are known to have in all entertainments for the diversion of the public, and the |