To tell ye, gentlemen, we have a play, A new one too, and that 'tis launched to-day,— The name ye know, that's nothing to my story;— To tell ye, 'tis familiar, void of glory, Of state, of bitterness—of wit, you'll say, For that is now held wit that tends that way, Which we avoid;—to tell ye too, 'tis merry, And meant to make ye pleasant, and not weary; The stream that guides ye, easy to attend; To tell ye that 'tis good, is to no end, If you believe not; nay, to go thus far, To swear it, if you swear against, is war: To assure you any thing, unless you see, And so conceive, is vanity in me; Therefore I leave it to itself; and pray, Like a good bark, it may work out to-day, And stem all doubts; 'twas built for such a proof, And we hope highly: if she lie aloof For her own vantage, to give wind at will, Why, let her work, only be you but still And sweet-opinioned; and we are bound to say, You are worthy judges, and you crown the play. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK REGIMENT by GEORGE HENRY BOKER THE CRUEL MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW THE BLACK RIDERS: 22 by STEPHEN CRANE OUT A-NUTTEN by WILLIAM BARNES TO A CHILD, THE DAUGHTER OF A FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 36 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |