If, after rude and boisterous seas, My wearied pinnace here finds ease; If so it be I’ve gained the shore With safety of a faithful oar; If, having run my barque on ground, Ye see the aged vessel crown’d: What’s to be done, but on the sands Ye dance and sing and now clap hands? The first act’s doubtful, but we say It is the last commends the play.