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 |
Prologue,
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The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | ||
Prologue,
spoke by Mrs. Heron, at her Benefit, after the Misfortune of putting out both her Knee-pans.
The poor, maim'd soldier, from his duty freed,
Safe, and at ease, commences invalid,
I, like the wounded sons of brave old Rome,
Call'd, by the cause I love, my post resume;
And, quitting rest, lest it should seem neglect,
Forget my tears, to bring you my respect.
Safe, and at ease, commences invalid,
I, like the wounded sons of brave old Rome,
Call'd, by the cause I love, my post resume;
And, quitting rest, lest it should seem neglect,
Forget my tears, to bring you my respect.
Who (by your pow'rful praises, once made vain)
Could stoop to languish, in a sense of pain?
Sweet smiling hope resign, for sullen ease.
And, (against nature) wish no more, to please!
The generous heart will some compassion show,
Where pleasures (only ours) are chang'd for woe.
But, ah! what anguish did my steps pursue,
While 'twas my life's whole task, to pleasure you!
Could but my misery merit your regard,
Be your kind pity all my wish'd reward.
Proud, I return, your servant to remain;
Scarce does she live at all, who lives, in vain.
What's a dark world, where hopes no longer chear?
Your loss were death—'tis life to find you, here.
Could stoop to languish, in a sense of pain?
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And, (against nature) wish no more, to please!
The generous heart will some compassion show,
Where pleasures (only ours) are chang'd for woe.
But, ah! what anguish did my steps pursue,
While 'twas my life's whole task, to pleasure you!
Could but my misery merit your regard,
Be your kind pity all my wish'd reward.
Proud, I return, your servant to remain;
Scarce does she live at all, who lives, in vain.
What's a dark world, where hopes no longer chear?
Your loss were death—'tis life to find you, here.
The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | ||