 | The Antipodes |  |
The Epilogue.
Doct.Whether my cure be perfect yet or no,
It lies not in my doctor-ship to know.
Your approbation may more raise the man
Then all the Colledge of physitians can;
And more health from your faire hands may be wonne,
Then by the streakings of the seaventh sonne.
Per.
And from our Travailes in th'Antipodes,
We are not yet arriv'd from off the Seas:
But on the waves of desprate feares we roame
Untill your gentler hands doe waft us home.
| The Antipodes | |