Epilogue -

Gentlemen, pray be favourable to wake a fool dormant amongst ye; I have been kick'd, and kick'd to that purpose; may be, they knock'd at the wrong door, my brains are asleep in the garret. I must appeal from their feet to your hands; there is no way but one; you must clap me, and clap me soundly; d'ye hear, I shall hardly come to myself else .
Oh, since my case, without you, desperate stands,Wake me with the loud music of your hands.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.