 | The Novella |  |
EPILOGUE.
Cause 'tis the Custome, By the Poet, Sirs,I'm sent to crave a Plaudit, and the Spurrs
That prick him on to't, is, his promis'd Pay
May chance to faile, if you dislike the Play,
But don't if you be wise; for hee has vow'd
To write farre worse if this be not allow'd.
FINIS.
| The Novella | |