 | The Humorous Lieutenant |  |
Epilogue.
I am not cur'd yet throughlie; for beleeveI feele another passion that may grieve
All over me I feele it too: and now
It takes me cold, cold, cold, I know not how:
As you are good men helpe me, a Carowse
May make me love you all, all here i'th' house,
And all that comes to see me doatingly:
Now lend your hands; and for your curtesie,
The next imployment I am sent upon,
I'le sweare you are Phisitians, the wars none.
FINIS.
| The Humorous Lieutenant | |