 | The Staple of Newes |  |
The Epilogue.
Thus haue you seene the Makers double scope,To profit, and delight; wherein our hope
Is, though the clout we doe not alwaies bit,
It will not be imputed to his wit:
A Tree so tri'd, and bent, as 'twill not start.
Nor doth he often cracke a string of Art,
Though there may other accidents as strange
Happen, the weather of your lookes may change,
Or some high wind of mis-conceit arise,
To cause an alteration in our Skyes;
If so, we'are sorry that haue so mis-spent
Our Time and Tackle, yet he'is confident,
And vow's the next faire day, hee'll haue vs shoot
The same match o're for him, if you'll come to't.
| The Staple of Newes | |