 | The Sophy |  |
The Epilogue.
'Tis done, and we alive agen, and nowThere is no Tragedie, but in your brow.
And yet our Author hopes you are pleas'd, if not;
This having fail'd, he has a second Plot:
'Tis this; the next day send us in your frends,
Then laugh at them, and make your selves amends.
Thus, whether it be good, or bad, yet you
May please your selves, and you may please us too:
But look you please the Poet, lest he vow
A full revenge upon you all, but how?
'Tis not to kill you all twentie a day,
Hee'll do't at once, a more compendious way
He meanes to write againe; but so much worse,
That seeing that, you'll think it a just curse
For censuring this: 'faith give him your applause,
As you give Beggars money; for no cause,
But that hee's troublesome, and he has swore,
As Beggars do, hee'll trouble you no more.
| The Sophy | |