 | The Tragedy of Ovid |  |
139
THE EPILOGUE.
Noble , and Generous Spectatours, stay!A word at Parting, and then go your way.
Our Author is stolne hence in mighty haste,
Because he thought the House was overcast.
With Clouds on every Brow; And was in dread,
A storm would else have faln upon his head.
I am his friend left purposely behind,
140
Beseech you Ladies, Smile: Their generall Frown,
Portends the Men will hiss our Tragedy down.
Command them clap their hands; For it is strange,
If men forbear, when women bid them clap.
I thank you Ladies! Thank you, Gentlemen!
To morrow, you may be welcom here agen.
FINIS.
| The Tragedy of Ovid | |