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.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
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EPILOGUE, To the same.
Baulk'd, as I am, my heart's best hope miscarry'd,
Try'd, cast, and sentenc'd, to be hang'd—that's marry'd!
E'er I'm turn'd off—I think it but my duty,
To warn, in my last speech, fast-falling beauty.
First, Maidens,—Let my sad example teach ye,
To put no trust in Man, till he can't reach ye;
For, if you strive, too near, his strength's so mighty,
That down you come at once—and then, good night t'ye:
Try'd, cast, and sentenc'd, to be hang'd—that's marry'd!
E'er I'm turn'd off—I think it but my duty,
To warn, in my last speech, fast-falling beauty.
First, Maidens,—Let my sad example teach ye,
To put no trust in Man, till he can't reach ye;
For, if you strive, too near, his strength's so mighty,
That down you come at once—and then, good night t'ye:
Next, O ye Wives, trust not in beauty's merit,
But, to your body's influence, add your spirit:
With your eye's light'ning, mix a tongue, that thunders;
Believe me, love, so double-arm'd, works wonders.
Yet, if nor charms, nor eloquence can save ye,
But your good man will break the faith, he gave ye,
Be you before hand with him—that reproving
Will make him owne—there's guilt in too light loving.
But, to your body's influence, add your spirit:
With your eye's light'ning, mix a tongue, that thunders;
Believe me, love, so double-arm'd, works wonders.
Yet, if nor charms, nor eloquence can save ye,
But your good man will break the faith, he gave ye,
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Will make him owne—there's guilt in too light loving.
As for you, Widows,—you're too wise, for teaching,
But suff'ring malefactors must be preaching:
So, take one word of counsel in your calling,
Though you're too brave, I know, to fear a falling,
From your old yoke set free—admit no new one,
Unless, with some, poor, brisk, young, kind, and true one:
The conscious youth, long mindful of your favour,
Will make up all defects—with good behaviour:
Loth, that his wants, his gratitude shou'd smother,
What he can't give you one way, he'll give another.
But suff'ring malefactors must be preaching:
So, take one word of counsel in your calling,
Though you're too brave, I know, to fear a falling,
From your old yoke set free—admit no new one,
Unless, with some, poor, brisk, young, kind, and true one:
The conscious youth, long mindful of your favour,
Will make up all defects—with good behaviour:
Loth, that his wants, his gratitude shou'd smother,
What he can't give you one way, he'll give another.
And now, good people, what I've more to say t'ye,
Should be a doleful tune, and sigh, and pray t'ye:
But—doleful tunes of late, are grown so common,
They move more sorrow, than a dying woman:
And sighs, and pray'rs, are best, when made in private,
As you all know—who have good ends, to drive at.
Should be a doleful tune, and sigh, and pray t'ye:
But—doleful tunes of late, are grown so common,
They move more sorrow, than a dying woman:
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As you all know—who have good ends, to drive at.
What shall I do then?—shall I hang and tarry,
Or bold, in saving faith, go on—and marry.
'Tis both ways, bad—But I've at once bethought me,
Of a sweet lesson, dear revenge, has taught me:
I'll stay, and see Sir Harry in his fetters,
Nor be so rude to swing, before my betters:
Pass but his honey-moon of sunshine weather,
And he, and I, may then, go hang together.
Or bold, in saving faith, go on—and marry.
'Tis both ways, bad—But I've at once bethought me,
Of a sweet lesson, dear revenge, has taught me:
I'll stay, and see Sir Harry in his fetters,
Nor be so rude to swing, before my betters:
Pass but his honey-moon of sunshine weather,
And he, and I, may then, go hang together.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |