Still anxious to secure your partial favor,
And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better:
So sought a Poet roosted near the skies;
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes;
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed;
And last, my prologue-business slily hinted.
' Ma'am, let me tell you,' quoth my man of rhymes,
' I know your bent - these are no laughing times:
Can you - but, Miss, I own I have my fears -
Dissolve in pause, and sentimental tears?
With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence,
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, fell Repentance?
Paint Vengeance, as he takes his horrid stand,
Waving on high the desolating brand,
Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land?'

I could no more! Askance the creature eyeing: -
' D'ye think,' said I, ' this face was made for crying?
I'll laugh, that's poz - nay more, the world shall know it;
And so, your servant! gloomy Master Poet!'

Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fixed belief
That Misery's another word for Grief.
I also think (so may I be a bride!)
That so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd.

Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh,
Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye;
Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive -
To make three guineas do the work of five;
Laugh in Misfortune's face - the beldam witch -
Say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich!

Thou other man of care, the wretch in love!
Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove;
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project,
Measur'st in desperate thought - a rope - thy neck -
Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep,
Peerest to meditate the healing leap:
Would'st thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf?
Laugh at her follies, laugh e'en at thyself;
Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific,
And love a kinder: that's your specific.

To sum up all: be merry, I advise;
And as we're merry, may we still be wise!

Still anxious to secure your partial favour,
And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
It would vamp (patch) my bill, said I, if nothing better:
So sought a Poet roosted near the skies;
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes;
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed;
And last, my prologue-business slyly hinted.
' Madam, let me tell you,' said my man of rhymes,
' I know your inclination - these are no laughing times:
Can you - but, Miss, I own I have my fears -
Dissolve in pause, and sentimental tears?
With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence,
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, cruel Repentance?
Paint Vengeance, as he takes his horrid stand,
Waving on high the desolating brand,
Calling the storms to bear him over a guilty land?'

could no more! Askance (side-ways) the creature eyeing -
' Do you think,' said I, ' this face was made for crying?
I will laugh, that is poz - no more, the world shall know it;
And so, your servant! gloomy Master Poet!'

Firm as my creed, Sirs, it is my fixed belief
That Misery is another word for Grief.
I also think (so may I be a bride!)
That so much laughter, so much life enjoyed.

You man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh,
Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye;
Doomed to that sorest task of man alive -
To make three guineas do the work of five;
Laugh in Misfortune's face - the ugly old witch -
Say, you will be merry, though you can not be rich

You other man of care, the wretch in love!
Who long with jilting arts and airs has striven;
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project,
Measures in desperate thought - a rope - your neck -
Or, where the beetling cliff overhangs the deep,
Peering to meditate the healing leap:
Would you be cured, you silly, moping elf?
Laugh at her follies, laugh even at yourself;
Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific,
And love a kinder: that is your specific.

To sum up all: be merry, I advise;
And as we are merry, may we still be wise!