 | Aglaura |  |
Prologue.
Fore Iove, a mightie Sessions: and I feare,Though kind last Sizes, 'twill be now severe;
For it is thought, and by judicious men,
Aglaura 'scap't onely by dying then:
But 'twould be vaine for mee now to indeare,
Or speake unto my Lords, the Iudges here,
They hold their places by condemning still,
And cannot shew at once mercie and skill;
For wit's so cruell unto wit, that they
Are thought to want, that find not want i'th' play.
But Ladies you, who never lik'd a plot,
But where the Servant had his Mistresse got,
And whom to see a Lover dye it grieves,
Although 'tis in worse language that he lives,
Will like't w'are confident, since here will bee,
That your Sex ever lik'd, varietie.
| Aglaura | |