 | Madrigal And Trulletta |  |
61
EPILOGUE. Design'd to be spoken by Scourella.
From the dear swain, who promises to wed me,
My curiosity hath hither led me,
To know what fate attends our author's lays;
Videlicet, the halter, or the bays—
You've heard the cause his buskin'd fortunes rest on;
To damn, or not to damn, is now the question:
Yet e'er his awful judges come to sentence,
List, list, O! list to me, your late acquaintance.
My curiosity hath hither led me,
To know what fate attends our author's lays;
Videlicet, the halter, or the bays—
You've heard the cause his buskin'd fortunes rest on;
To damn, or not to damn, is now the question:
Yet e'er his awful judges come to sentence,
List, list, O! list to me, your late acquaintance.
Behind the curtain our dramatic Wight,
(I never saw more miserable sight)
Stalks o'er the stage in deep-dejected air,
A living monument of sad despair,
Soliloquizing thus—“The die is thrown;
And I must stand or fall by—what?—the town—
The town—perhaps the criticks—there's the rub—
The town encourages, the criticks snub
An author's hope—but how to mercy bend 'em—
I'm weary of conjectures—this must end 'em.
[Pulling out a halter.
Such his complaint, so pitiful his moan,
It would have mollified a heart of stone.
(I never saw more miserable sight)
Stalks o'er the stage in deep-dejected air,
A living monument of sad despair,
Soliloquizing thus—“The die is thrown;
And I must stand or fall by—what?—the town—
The town—perhaps the criticks—there's the rub—
The town encourages, the criticks snub
An author's hope—but how to mercy bend 'em—
I'm weary of conjectures—this must end 'em.
[Pulling out a halter.
Such his complaint, so pitiful his moan,
It would have mollified a heart of stone.
I've told his case to make you cry—or laugh.
Now for a word or two in his behalf.
Ladies and Gents, our bard's but a beginner,
'Twere pity to cut off so young a sinner:
Even justice sometimes strains a statute's sense,
To spare a Culprit, in his first offence.
Receive this novel brat with kind applause,
And, if I'm read in divination's laws,
I prophecy—ay, now begin your laughter—
Our hempen bard will please you all hereafter.
Now for a word or two in his behalf.
Ladies and Gents, our bard's but a beginner,
'Twere pity to cut off so young a sinner:
Even justice sometimes strains a statute's sense,
To spare a Culprit, in his first offence.
Receive this novel brat with kind applause,
And, if I'm read in divination's laws,
I prophecy—ay, now begin your laughter—
Our hempen bard will please you all hereafter.
| Madrigal And Trulletta | |