Love Triumphant : or, The Rival Goddesses A Pastoral Opera |
EPILOGUE. Spoken (the First Time of its Performance) in Private.
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 | Love Triumphant : or, The Rival Goddesses |  |
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EPILOGUE. Spoken (the First Time of its Performance) in Private.
Ladies,
To
You, Fair Judges
, I'm with Orders come,
To know at Once what is our Final Doom:
Trembling within, our Little Actors wait,
And seem Impatient till They know their Fate.
To know at Once what is our Final Doom:
Trembling within, our Little Actors wait,
And seem Impatient till They know their Fate.
Some, too Morose, shew by their Angry Looks,
They wish We had Rehears'd Our Spelling Books;
And think Our Time had been much better spent
At Cross-Stitch, Irish-Stitch, or at the Tent:
Yet still, We hope, We have a Party here,
Who'll be as Merciful, as They Severe.
They wish We had Rehears'd Our Spelling Books;
And think Our Time had been much better spent
At Cross-Stitch, Irish-Stitch, or at the Tent:
Yet still, We hope, We have a Party here,
Who'll be as Merciful, as They Severe.
If This We find diverts You, We propose
Next Breaking-up, to borrow Scenes and Cloaths.
Our JOVE in Awful Thunder shall appear,
And Hermes, doubly wing'd, shall cut the Air;
Our Shepherd on a Mossy Bank shall lye,
Watching, his fleecy Flocks, that graze hard by.
Our Goddesses in gaudy Vests shall shine,
And seem, tho' Mortal, to be all Divine.
Cupid shall wait on Venus with his Bow,
And with his Arrows pierce Young Paris thro':
At last, To finish This Our harmless Sport,
We'll All be drest t'adorn Fair Venus' Court.
Proud of Applause, at all this Pomp We'll-aim,
And spare no Pains, or Cost, to purchase Fame.
Next Breaking-up, to borrow Scenes and Cloaths.
Our JOVE in Awful Thunder shall appear,
And Hermes, doubly wing'd, shall cut the Air;
Our Shepherd on a Mossy Bank shall lye,
Watching, his fleecy Flocks, that graze hard by.
Our Goddesses in gaudy Vests shall shine,
And seem, tho' Mortal, to be all Divine.
Cupid shall wait on Venus with his Bow,
And with his Arrows pierce Young Paris thro':
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We'll All be drest t'adorn Fair Venus' Court.
Proud of Applause, at all this Pomp We'll-aim,
And spare no Pains, or Cost, to purchase Fame.
| Love Triumphant : or, The Rival Goddesses | |