 | A Tale of a Tub |  |
EPILOGVE.
Squire TVB.This Tale of mee, the Tub of Totten-Court,
A Poet, first invented for your sport.
Wherein the fortune of most empty Tabs
Rowling in love, are shewne; and with what rubs,
W'are commonly encountred: When the wit
Of the whole Hundred so opposeth it.
Our petty Chanon's forked plot in chiefe,
Slie Iustice arts, with the High Constables Briefe,
And brag Commands; my Lady Mothers care;
And her Pol-martens fortune; with the rare
Fate of poore Iohn, thus tumbled in the Caske;
Got In-and-In, to gi't you in a Masque:
That you be pleas'd, who come to see a Play,
With those that heare, and marke not what wee say.
Wherein the Poets fortune is, I feare,
Still to be early up, but nere the neare.
| A Tale of a Tub | |