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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539280" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Epilogue - To the Tragedy of Cleone</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, Ladies-so much for the tragic style-<br>And now the custom is to make you smile.<br>To make us smile!-methinks I hear you say-<br>Why, who can help it, at so strange a play?<br>The captain gone three years!-and then to blame<br>The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame!<br>My stars! what gentle belle would think it treason,<br>When thus provoked, to give the brute some reason?<br>Out of my house!-this night, forsooth, depart!<br>A modern wife had said-'With all my heart-<br>But think not, haughty Sir, I'll go alone;<br>Order your coach-conduct me safe to Town-<br>Give me my jewels, wardrobe, and my maid-<br>And pray take care my pin-money be paid.'<br>Such is the language of each modish fair;<br>Yet memoirs, not of modern growth, declare<br>The time has been, when modesty and truth<br>Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth;<br>When women hid their necks, and veil'd their faces,<br>Nor romp'd, nor raked, nor stared at public places,<br>Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces:<br>Then plain domestic virtues were the mode,<br>And wives ne'er dreamt of happiness abroad;<br>They loved their children, learnt no flaunting airs,<br>But with the joys of wedlock mix'd the cares.<br>Those times are past-yet sure they merit praise,<br>For marriage triumph'd in those golden days;<br>By chaste decorum they affection gain'd;<br>By faith and fondness, what they won, maintain'd.<br>'Tis yours, Ye Fair! to bring those days again,<br>And form anew the hearts of thoughtless men;<br>Make beauty's lustre amiable as bright,<br>And give the soul, as well as sense, delight;<br>Reclaim from folly a fantastic age,<br>That scorns the press, the pulpit, and the stage.<br>Let truth and tenderness your breasts adorn,<br>The marriage chain with transport shall be worn;<br>Each blooming virgin, raised into a bride,<br>Shall double all their joys, their cares divide;<br>Alleviate grief, compose the jars of strife,<br>And pour the balm that sweetens human life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Shenstone">William Shenstone</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539280" data-title="Epilogue - To the Tragedy of Cleone de William Shenstone" data-description="Well, Ladies-so much for the tragic style-
And now the custom is to make you smile.
To make us smile!-methinks I hear you say-
Why, who can help it, at so strange a play?
The captain gone three years!-and then to blame
The faultless conduct of his..."></div>
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