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THE EPILOGUE TO 'THE SCHOLARS', by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: The stubborn author of the trifle crime
Last Line: He'll not look farther for a second day.


THE stubborn author of the trifle crime,
That just now cheated you of two hours' time,
Presumptuous it lik'd him, began to grow
Careless whether it pleas'd you or no.

But we who ground th' excellence of a play
On what the women at the doors will say,
Who judge it by the benches, and afford
To take your money ere his oath or word,
His Scholars school'd, said if he had been wise
He should have wove in one two comedies:
The first for th' gallery, in which the throne,
To their amazement, should descend alone,
The rosin lightning flash, and monster spire
Squibs and words hotter than his fire.

Th' other for the gentlemen o' th' pit,
Like to themselves all spirit, fancy, wit,
In which plots should be subtle as a flame,
Disguises would make Proteus still the same,
Humours so rarely humour'd and express'd,
That ev'n they should think 'em so, not dress'd;
Vices acted and applauded too, times
Tickled, and th' actors acted, not their crimes:
So he might equally applause have gain'd
Of th' hard'ned, sooty, and the snowy hand.

Where now one "So, so" spatters, t' other, "No;
'Tis his first play, 'twere solecism 't should go";
The next, "'T show'd prettily, but search'd within,
It appears bare and bald"---as is his chin;
The town-wit sentences: "A scholar's play!
Pish! I know not why, but th' ave not the way."

We, whose gain is all our pleasure, ev'n these
Are bound by justice and religion to please;
Which he, whose pleasure's all his gain, goes by
As slightly as they do his comedy.

Cull's out the few, the worthy, at whose feet
He sacrifices both himself and it
His fancy's first fruits. Profit he knows none,
Unless that of your approbation,
Which if your thoughts at going out will pay,
He'll not look farther for a second day.





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