noise of the ancoras was as loud as before, and she was obliged again to speak it twice; the third night it was still called for a second time, and, in short, contrary to all other epilogues, which are dropped after the third representation of the play, this has already been repeated nine times.”  “Philomedes” then points out that, although the prologue and epilogue were real parts of ancient tragedy, they are on the English stage distinct performances, entirely detached from the play, and in no way essential to it.  “The moment the play ends,” he argues, “Mrs. Oldfield is no more Andromache, but Mrs. Oldfield; and though the poet had left Andromache ‘stone dead upon the stage’ ...  Mrs. Oldfield might still have spoken a merry epilogue;” and he refers to the well-known instance of Nell Gwynne, in the epilogue to Dryden’s tragedy of “Tyrannic Love,” “where there is not only a death but a martyrdom,” rising from the stage upon which she was supposed to be lying stone dead—­an attempt having been made to remove her by those gentlemen “whose business it is to carry off the slain in our English tragedies”—­and breaking out “into that abrupt beginning of what was a very ludicrous but at the same time thought a very good epilogue: 

    “Hold! are you mad? you damned confounded dog,
    I am to rise and speak the epilogue!”

“This diverting manner,” “Philomedes” proceeds, “was always practised by Mr. Dryden, who, if he was not the best writer of tragedies in his time, was allowed by everyone to have the happiest turn for a prologue or an epilogue.”  And he further cites the example of a comic epilogue known to be written by Prior, to the tragedy of “Phaedra and Hippolita,” Addison having supplied the work with a prologue ridiculing the Italian operas.  He refers also to the French stage:  “Since everyone knows that nation, who are generally esteemed to have as polite a taste as any in Europe, always close their tragic entertainment with what they call a petite piece, which is purposely designed to raise mirth and send away the audience well pleased.  The same person who has supported the chief character in the tragedy very often plays the principal part in the petite piece; so that I have myself seen at Paris Orestes and Lubin acted the same night by the same man.”

This famous epilogue to “The Distressed Mother” is spoken by Andromache, and opens with the following lines, which are certainly flippant enough: 

    I hope you’ll own that with becoming art
    I’ve played my game and topped the widow’s part! 
    My spouse, poor man, could not live out the play,
    But died commodiously on his wedding-day;
    While I, his relict, made, at one bold fling,
    Myself a princess, and young Sty a king.