Epilogue - To The Tragedy Of Cleone Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFGHIJJKKLL MNOPPQQRRSSTTUUVVWWX X| Well Ladies so much for the tragic style | A |
| And now the custom is to make you smile | A |
| To make us smile methinks I hear you say | B |
| Why who can help it at so strange a play | B |
| The captain gone three years and then to blame | C |
| The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame | C |
| My stars what gentle belle would think it treason | D |
| When thus provoked to give the brute some reason | D |
| Out of my house this night forsooth depart | E |
| A modern wife had said 'With all my heart | E |
| But think not haughty Sir I'll go alone | F |
| Order your coach conduct me safe to Town | G |
| Give me my jewels wardrobe and my maid | H |
| And pray take care my pin money be paid ' | I |
| Such is the language of each modish fair | J |
| Yet memoirs not of modern growth declare | J |
| The time has been when modesty and truth | K |
| Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth | K |
| When women hid their necks and veil'd their faces | L |
| Nor romp'd nor raked nor stared at public places | L |
| Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces | M |
| Then plain domestic virtues were the mode | N |
| And wives ne'er dreamt of happiness abroad | O |
| They loved their children learnt no flaunting airs | P |
| But with the joys of wedlock mix'd the cares | P |
| Those times are past yet sure they merit praise | Q |
| For marriage triumph'd in those golden days | Q |
| By chaste decorum they affection gain'd | R |
| By faith and fondness what they won maintain'd | R |
| 'Tis yours Ye Fair to bring those days again | S |
| And form anew the hearts of thoughtless men | S |
| Make beauty's lustre amiable as bright | T |
| And give the soul as well as sense delight | T |
| Reclaim from folly a fantastic age | U |
| That scorns the press the pulpit and the stage | U |
| Let truth and tenderness your breasts adorn | V |
| The marriage chain with transport shall be worn | V |
| Each blooming virgin raised into a bride | W |
| Shall double all their joys their cares divide | W |
| Alleviate grief compose the jars of strife | X |
| And pour the balm that sweetens human life | X |
William Shenstone
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