Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/549

 COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA 411 �4 �Witnesse ye secret cares I prove, �Which is the greater tryal, To sue for unrewarded love, �Or dye by self denyal. ���EPILOGUE TO AKISTOMENES �An Epilogue, after a tedious Play, Is like the last long mile in dusty way, That trys your patience, and that wearies more, Then all the ii&some road you passt before. Or like the Stirrup cup, a Bumkin forces, When men already scarce can sitt their horses. Yett for one here, good arguments prevail ; And since the Play so many ways does fail, For her own sake, the Author thought itt fitt To lett the Audience know when this was writt, 'Twas not for praise, or with pretense to witt: But lonely Godmersham th' attempt excuses, Not sure to be endur'd, without the Muses ; Then if what was compos'd within that shade, (And has no farther from itts limmitts strayde Then Eastern Beautys, which are only shown To the dear spouse, and family alone) Can gain your Pardon cancell but the past, And of this kind, this fault shall be the last. ��� �