The Certain Hour (Dizain des Poëtes)

  Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's my own, Which is most faint.

  Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

  As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.--_Epilogue to The Tempest_.