But I was born in Afric's tawny strand,
And you in fair Britannia's fairer land;
Comes freedom, then, from colour?--Blush with shame!
And let strong Nature's crimson mark your blame.
I speak to Britons.--Britons--then behold
A man by, Britons _snared_, and _seized_, and _sold!_
And yet no British statute damns the deed,
Nor do the more than murderous villains bleed.


O sons of Freedom! equalize your laws,
Be all consistent, plead the negro's cause;
That all the nations in your code may see
The British negro, like the Briton, free.
But, should he supplicate your laws in vain,
To break, for ever, this disgraceful chain,
At least, let gentle usage so abate
The galling terrors of its passing state,
That he may share kind Heaven's all social plan;
For, though no Briton, Mungo is--a man.


I may now add, that few theatrical pieces had a greater run than the
_Padlock_; and that this epilogue, which was attached to it soon after
it came out, procured a good deal of feeling for the unfortunate
sufferers, whose cause it was intended to serve.

Another coadjutor, to whom these cruel and wicked practices gave birth,