The epilogue, "which consists of but twelve lines, is in the same strain of apology."
"And how do you like her; Come, what is't ye drive at? She's the same thing in public as in private, As far from being what you call a whore, As Desdemona injured by the Moor; Then he that censures her in such a case, Hath a soul blacker than Othello's face. But, ladies, what think _you_? for if you tax Her freedom with dishonour to your sex, She means to act no more, and this shall be No other play, but her own tragedy. She will submit to none but your commands, And take commission only from your hands."[226]
From the nature of this epilogue, and the permission accorded by the ladies, the women actors appear to have met with all the success they could wish; yet a prologue to the second part of Davenant's "Siege of Rhodes," acted in April, 1662, shows us that the matter was still considered a delicate one upwards of a year afterwards.
"Hope little from our poet's withered wit, From infant players scarce grown puppets yet; Hope from our women less, whose bashful fear Wondered to see me dare to enter here: Each took her leave, and wished my danger past, And though I came back safe and undisgraced, Yet when they spy the wits here, then I doubt No amazon can make them venture out, Though I advised them not to fear you much, For I presume not half of you are such."[227]
It was in the Theatre at Vere Street that Pepys first saw a woman on the stage.[228] One of the earliest female performers mentioned by him was an actress whose name is not ascertained, but who attained an unfortunate celebrity in the part of Roxana in the "Siege of Rhodes." She was seduced by Aubery de Vere, the last Earl of Oxford of that name, under the guise of a private marriage--a species of villany which made a great figure in works of fiction up to a late period. The story is "got up" in detail by Madame Dunois, in her "History of the Court of Charles II.;"[229] but it is told with more brevity in Grammont; and as the latter, though apocryphal enough, pretends to say nothing on the subject in which he is not borne out by other writers, his lively account may be laid before the reader.