 | The Tragedy of Nero, Emperour of Rome |  |
The Epilogue spoken by Mr. Harris.
How dull, how grave, and how precise ye sit,As if ye had acted Love, not tasted wit.
When the Trick's done, like Wine unstop'd yee pall
After enjoyment, thus it's with yee all,
Your modish Playes like jaunty Misses shew'd,
Be bravely drest, high flown, more fine than good
For Cloaths attract yee more than flesh and blood.
Like cover'd viands Beauties hid from sight,
Raise drooping fancy up to new delight.
For you Gallants, ye gay brisk witty Men,
He knows your killing trade, your damning strain;
Ye can as well Wenches and drink restrain:
Yet faith for my sweet sake be kind to night,
Or may this heavy curse upon ye light;
May each Gallant that has an assignation,
Be jilted after four hours expectation;
Or if the masked Gentlewoman come
Spight of long Scarff, may she be dogg'd from home.
May ye—
In height of Titilation hear a rapping,
And then the jealous Cuckold take ye napping.
| The Tragedy of Nero, Emperour of Rome | |