The Entertainment performed at the Theatre-Royal in Dorset-Garden, at Drawing the LOTTERY called The Wheel of Fortune: Being the Speeches addressed to the Spectators, as Prologues and Epilogues. During a Symphony of music the Curtain rises very slowly, and discovers Two Wheels upon the Stage: Then Two Figures, representing Fortuna, and Astraea the Goddess of Justice, descend over each Wheel, in two rich Chariots gilded with Gold. Fortuna( performed by Miss Porter) first speaks, WHere th' equal Cause, and equal Merits, hold One Common Title to the Ball of Gold▪ should th' interposing powers of Destiny To some more Darling Head the prise decree; Deciding Fate would Arbitrary be. No; this Decision lies in FORTUNE's Sphere: From random Chance no partial judgement fear. Then, JOVE, resign: 'tis I reign Goddess here. Yes, JOVE, stand by; and see my Glory shine: Look on, and learn to mend Thy Globe by Mine, Cunning, Cheat, falsehood; every treacherous Ill That thy degenerate World too vilely fill, Are here all banished. No designing shame, But Innocent Chance plays here her Artless Game. What Joys would thy Reforming Empire feel, moved but thy World as honest as my Wheel? But stay: Let me look round my Sovereign Sphere: The Great, the Fair; those dazzling Charms appear: Fortune has found her Eyes to see such Glories here. Yes, give me leave, when this fair Train I find, To be no more to my own Greatness blind. To see the Rich, the Gay, the Young, the Old, All spread their Laps to catch my shower of Gold. Fortune commands all Hearts: I bend each Knee: The Court of all Mankind's addressed to Me. Fortune the World's Great All! The Plume of Quality; The Churchman's Saint, his dear adored Plurality. The best Court-Friend; The Misses only Pleasure; The Prodigal's Trifle, but the Miser's Treasure. The Wedlock-Cupid's -Cupid's Shaft; 'tis Love's Fire-Arms; The Widow's Beauty; and the Beau's whole Charms. The Chymist's Patience, and the Gamester's Quarrel; The Seaman's Pilot, and the Soldier's laurel: All Fortune, all.— The Lawyer at the Bar, I am his Morning Study, Evening prayer: The Statesman's Charles-his-wain points to my Northern Star. All steer to Fortune: Mine's the Golden cost. But of all Brows that Fortune's Chaplet boast, The Great Augusta( Industry's Renown And Europe's Pride) shall wear my richest Crown. All, but the Muses, taste my Generous Hand: I 'm but their Visionary Fairy-Land. So thin I doal my niggard Favours there; Fortune, even th' Hope of Fools, and yet poor Wits despair. Astraea( performed by Miss Cholk) speaks, WHEN the bad World of Old too sinful grew, Frighted to heaven the fair Astraea flew: Nor wonder, from that Peaceful Orb, what power Has brought me to th' Ungrateful World once more. I come t'assist a Sister-Goddess Cause. Nay, a yet more attracting Influence draws: I but descend from my own Starry Sphere, To meet a fairer Constellation here. You then the honoured Guests in these proud Walls, I come to tell You, when your Service calls; Here no Deceit the least false Game shall play: For Sovereign Justice sits to rule the Day. And as in Battle, when the Hero dies, even the lost Dead i'th' Bed of Honour lies. Here sure th' Unfortunate can never mourn: Te trifling Venture's so beneath their Scorn. Nay, and to make the Loser yet more easy; We bring down Goddesses from heaven to please ye. Epilogue by Astraea. WHEN Justice has performed her Charge, and stayed To see all fairly won, and justly paid, She shall scarce make a longer tower among ye; No, Sublunary Mortals,( not to wrong ye) Whilst the World's larger Theatre I see, So tired with those mad Follies I shall be, That this lower Globe and I can ne're agree. First, for the lovely Sex— Their Faults I'll spare: Those Spots in Stars, the Follies of the Fair. But that strange Sight to see old Aesop's Crow Once more turn Peacock, that gay bide, a Beau! What should I bring my Scales of Justice thither, Where all I have to weigh is Plume and Feather? What lame Account must Truth record in Story, Where Foppery, not Sense, bears all the Glory? This Ages panegyric to indite, Not Pens of Chronicle, but Lampoon, should writ. And next— What Quarrels and dissension rule Mankind? 'tis true, the World a General Peace may find: But there's no end of private feuds and Jars: The Parsons and the Poets are at Wars. Those in their Pious, these, poetic, Rage; These lash the Pulpit, and they damn the Stage. A third damns both: Thus in one pushing Trial, Wit, Zeal, and Wisdom, fight one Battle-Royal. These and a hundred Faults too poor to name, Are the degenerate Ages common shane. Thus, blushing at these Faults, shall Justice fly Back to her Halcyon Regions in the Sky: Yet in my Room( such gracious Smiles I'll owe ye) I'll sand down Mercy— Justice would undo ye. Fortuna speaks, should Fortune to all Sides keep open Ears, T'a thousand Curses and a thousand Prayers; tired with that common Din of all Mankind, Methinks she should be rather Deaf than Blind. Yet why should any Man repined at Chance? 'tis all but Frenzy, peevish Ignorance! You should court Fortune, as you pay your Duty To some Court-Star, some celebrated Beauty. All gaze with Rival-Eyes; each fond Adorer Presents his offered Heart, and kneels before her. All may look up, and every longing Eye May wish and hope: But all can ne're enjoy.— would ye all be blessed? fie, Gentlemen, oh fie! A Woman's but a Woman; her kind Arms, Her Golden Joys, and all her Melting Charms, Into so many showers can never fall: The Devil's in't, if She can please ye All. Expect the same from Fortune. My rich Hoard Of Smiles, is not so infinitely stored, That every One can be the happy Man: And yet I'll be as kind as e're I can. My Graces, Smiles, and Favours, I'll bestow All my whole Stock, as far as e're 'twill go. And Gentlemen, when, to my utmost power, Iv'e given ye all my whole exhausted Store, You'd be unconscionable to ask me more. London: Printed for A. Baldwin, in Warwick-lane, 1698.