What Epilogues are made, for who can tell, 'Twere worth the pains to write and speak 'em well. If they cou'd gain your favour for bad Plays, But by their merits you'll condemn or praise: 'Tis but a form, no matter then by whom, Or what is said, and therefore I am come. I, who no partial Voice can hope t'engage, No graces of my own, nor of the Stage: But tho' I cannot yet expect to move, Or merit either your applause or love: Sure practising so young I may improve. That's all I come for: what's the Play to me, And since I'm here, I think I'll let you see, What you're to hope, I may hereafter be. Come, a short taste of some Heroick now? @3But do not trust me, no, for if you do, By all the furies and the flames of Love: By Love, which is the hottest burning Hell, I'll set you both on fire to blaze for ever.@1 How was that done, I'll swear it pleases me, And tho' I came careless of your decree, If favouring, or against our Tragedy, Methinks I'm now grown tender of its fate, Who knows but I may come to act Queen @3Kate@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEARS AT RASPBERRY TIME by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOTHER (MARGERY CARRUTH, 1896-1981) by HAYDEN CARRUTH FLOWER GUIDANCE by ROBERT FROST ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN COSMOPOLITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DE LITTLE PICKANINNY'S GONE TO SLEEP by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |