The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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EPILOGUE, To the same, spoke by Mrs Seymour.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
EPILOGUE, To the same, spoke by Mrs Seymour.
You've
seen the Play—and I'll unfold the Poet,
To whom (stray'd sheep of a pure flock) we owe it,
He's a chance blessing—somewhat strangely flung us!
Dropt, from the clouds of innocence, among us!
Slipt through the Kirks loose pale, we gave him quarter;
Poor soul! he had like to've been the muse's Martyr:
When stage-plays! and abominations! took him,
Grace, and the shepherds of the Saints forsook him.
'Twas given thenceforth, to Satan's power, to win him;
—The root of the sound matter was not in him.
Yet, tho' rebuk'd, full sore—he's no huge sinner.—
You'll scarce see one of his pure brethren, thinner.
Most sanctified of face! troth—I'm afraid,
If his looks lie not—the poor man's a maid!
To whom (stray'd sheep of a pure flock) we owe it,
He's a chance blessing—somewhat strangely flung us!
Dropt, from the clouds of innocence, among us!
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Poor soul! he had like to've been the muse's Martyr:
When stage-plays! and abominations! took him,
Grace, and the shepherds of the Saints forsook him.
'Twas given thenceforth, to Satan's power, to win him;
—The root of the sound matter was not in him.
Yet, tho' rebuk'd, full sore—he's no huge sinner.—
You'll scarce see one of his pure brethren, thinner.
Most sanctified of face! troth—I'm afraid,
If his looks lie not—the poor man's a maid!
The Bard, not carnal-minded, (say the curious,
How come th'unfleshly folks, to be so furious?
Judge you the quarrel, right—we'll briefly show it:
—Good Plays give good instruction, said the Poet:
Vanity! cry'd the brethren—gross defilement!
And, so, the war broke out, past reconcilement.
How come th'unfleshly folks, to be so furious?
Judge you the quarrel, right—we'll briefly show it:
—Good Plays give good instruction, said the Poet:
Vanity! cry'd the brethren—gross defilement!
And, so, the war broke out, past reconcilement.
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Young
Bays, provok'd, here drew his wrathful pen;
Shine forth, said he, my muse, on these dark men:
And prove, by dint of fair example, whether
Much goodness is not learnt, by coming hither.
Shine forth, said he, my muse, on these dark men:
And prove, by dint of fair example, whether
Much goodness is not learnt, by coming hither.
But what he teaches, be to him alone:
I'll teach a secret lesson, of my own.
I'll teach a secret lesson, of my own.
SAY they, of Plays, that men learn nothing by 'em?
I stand the stage's champion, and defy 'em:
Who that has seen, to night, how I, a wife,
Gave counsel, fit to've sav'd my spouse's life,
Learns not this moral, past all contradiction,
That disobedient husbands—meet affliction?
That he's most happy, who his fetters eases,
And lets his wiser wife—do—what she pleases.
I stand the stage's champion, and defy 'em:
Who that has seen, to night, how I, a wife,
Gave counsel, fit to've sav'd my spouse's life,
Learns not this moral, past all contradiction,
That disobedient husbands—meet affliction?
That he's most happy, who his fetters eases,
And lets his wiser wife—do—what she pleases.
This, for our sex's fame, his Play produces,
You see, all doctrines have their hidden uses:
To this—if the bluff brethren preach resistance,
Let 'em, as they love safety, keep their distance;
For, should we catch 'em, in our wrong'd dominion,
Stiff, as they are, we'll make 'em change opinion.
You see, all doctrines have their hidden uses:
To this—if the bluff brethren preach resistance,
Let 'em, as they love safety, keep their distance;
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Stiff, as they are, we'll make 'em change opinion.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |