  Spoken by Mr. Peter Buckstail. Since 'tis the fashion, preface, prologue next, Else what's a play?—like sermon without text! Since 'tis the fashion then, I'll not oppose; For what's a man if he's without a nose? The curtain's up—the music's now begun, What is 't?—Why murder, fire, and sword, and gun. What scene?—Why blood!—What act?—Fight and be free! Or be ye slaves—and give up liberty! Blest Continent, while groaning nations round Bend to the servile yoke, ignobly bound, May ye be free—nor ever be opprest By murd'ring tyrants, but a land of rest! What say ye to 't? what says the audience? Methinks I hear some whisper Common Sense. Hark! what say them Tories?—Silence—let 'em speak, Poor fools! dumb—they hav'n't spoke a word this week, Dumb let 'em be, at full end of their tethers, 'Twill save the expense of tar and of feathers: Since old Pluto's lurch'd 'em, and swears he does not know If more these Tory puppy curs will bark or no. Now ring the bell—Come forth, ye actors, come, The Tragedy's begun, beat, beat the drum, Let's all advance, equipt like volunteers, Oppose the foe, and banish all our fears.
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