The Certain Hour (Dizain des Poëtes) Page 13
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_.