 | Heroick Friendship |  |
67
EPILOGUE.
As
in a Sketch you've seen a Figure stand,
Bold in its Out-lines, speak the Artist's Hand;
Void of false fading Colours it appears,
For none it wants, The Master Stroke it wears
Without superfluous Paint, and just Proportion bears.
Thus are our Scenes; What needs the Poets Name?
His lavish Fancy speaks enough his Fame;
You've seen him here in his accustom'd Dress,
Pointing the Way to Virtue thro' Distress,
Whilst Ruine to the Brave seems Happiness.
Strong are his Passions in a Lovesick Mind,
But stronger in the Crisis of a Friend.
Bold in its Out-lines, speak the Artist's Hand;
Void of false fading Colours it appears,
For none it wants, The Master Stroke it wears
Without superfluous Paint, and just Proportion bears.
Thus are our Scenes; What needs the Poets Name?
His lavish Fancy speaks enough his Fame;
You've seen him here in his accustom'd Dress,
Pointing the Way to Virtue thro' Distress,
Whilst Ruine to the Brave seems Happiness.
Strong are his Passions in a Lovesick Mind,
But stronger in the Crisis of a Friend.
Indeed, if 'twas not for a Custom's Breach,
You'd not be pester'd with an After-speech;
But that our Stage has it in so much Vogue,
That a Plays naked 'thout an Epilogue;
Else what's a Varnish to such Manly Wit!
The Master Touches here will Start the Cit,
Who Dares to Damn a Play which OTWAY writ?
Criticks beware what Liberty you Use,
'Twill but Expose your Ignorance to refuse,
A Reverence Just to the Bard's silent Muse.
You'd not be pester'd with an After-speech;
But that our Stage has it in so much Vogue,
That a Plays naked 'thout an Epilogue;
Else what's a Varnish to such Manly Wit!
The Master Touches here will Start the Cit,
Who Dares to Damn a Play which OTWAY writ?
Criticks beware what Liberty you Use,
'Twill but Expose your Ignorance to refuse,
A Reverence Just to the Bard's silent Muse.
To those of sounder Judgment we submit,
(Who Scorn to mingle with an Envious Pit.
Just as their Sentence, willingly we yield;
And as they give it for us, stand the Field.
(Who Scorn to mingle with an Envious Pit.
Just as their Sentence, willingly we yield;
And as they give it for us, stand the Field.
One Thing we've more to ask to solve our Care,
And that's the wonted Candour from the Fair;
Which if we gain, the Winds shall have our Fear.
Such a Concession from his native Isle,
Would make our Poet in Elysium Smile.
And that's the wonted Candour from the Fair;
Which if we gain, the Winds shall have our Fear.
Such a Concession from his native Isle,
Would make our Poet in Elysium Smile.
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