Epilogue, To the Same : Spoke by Monimia

I was just plotting , as the curtain fell,
To hit the general taste , and please ye well :
'Twere a sure way, thought I, their frowns to soften ,
Should I, oft kill'd , and brought to life , as often,
Now , in good earnest , draw oblivion o'er me,
And die — as Tragedy has done, before me .
Troth! it were no untimely resolution ,
Had one a heart dispos'd for — execution :
Since there's a mode in minds , as well as dress ,
'Tis too old fashion'd now to give distress .
When you're resolv'd to laugh , and to be easy ,
Why should unsummon'd sense break in, to teize ye?
Once , we had tuneless times — so out of measure ,
That wit was business, here — and thought was pleasure.
Naked of song, dance, farce , — or HarlequinING !
A plain, dry Play , then charm'd , good heaven! — by meaning ,
Well! since it comes affirm'd — we must receive it,
But, 'twas so long ago , I scarce believe it.

T HIS age, thank heaven, is wiser — Pit and Gallery ,
Treat their good, grave, forefathers taste, with raillery ,
What! sit three hours , to hear dull Actors prating ,
No E NTERTAINMENT , after all that waiting —
I'd give a dozen such Plays — for one Bear-baiting?
Your humble actors , slowly stretch ambition ,
To top these arts of Play-house erudition :
How e'er unapt by time , and you conducted,
W E too , shall mend , grow wise , and be instructed :
Would I were six yards taller tho' — to charm ye!
Or PETITE M ADEMOISELLE EN CHIENNE t' alarm ye.
Something, I soon, must learn above plain speaking —
Teach me, some pig of taste , thy art of squeaking !
No Patentee , now, holds us worth contracting,
'Till we have learnt more ways than one , of acting .
What thinking face will any praise ordain us,
Whose climbing eyes have scal'd — M YNHEER C AJANUS !
Give place Great Alexander ! — Go, retire —
We have enroll'd a H ERO — Three foot higher !
From C ÆSAR 's death , no future grief shall flow,
Since every joyful night restores P IERRO !
While poor Monimia 's and Castalio 's die,
Aye, let 'em go — the improv'd spectators cry;
Mind what a cunning fellow — Harlequin is!
And what a charming plot in every scene is:
Well! in our turns, we yet may entertain ye,
We shall be soon struck dumb — and, then we gain ye.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.