 | The Bastard |  |
EPILOGVE.
Now
we have done, 'ts the greatest of our Fears,
You'll say, W'ave led you hither by the Ears
To see some strange Conceipt: But when you came
You found our 'Spitall-wits, both Blind and Lame:
Faith! if w'ave made you Fools! 'twere best you be
Silent, that you may have more Company.
You'll say, W'ave led you hither by the Ears
To see some strange Conceipt: But when you came
You found our 'Spitall-wits, both Blind and Lame:
Faith! if w'ave made you Fools! 'twere best you be
Silent, that you may have more Company.
If any injury be done, We doe
Acknowledge, it is onely done to you:
We cook'd it for your Palats, if the Meat
Disrelish, don't indict us for a Cheat:
We hop'd to please: if ought disgust, We wish
You'ld think it but an ill-cookt Spanish Dish.
Your Patience claims our Thanks: Let Gaspar have
Acknowledge, it is onely done to you:
We cook'd it for your Palats, if the Meat
Disrelish, don't indict us for a Cheat:
We hop'd to please: if ought disgust, We wish
You'ld think it but an ill-cookt Spanish Dish.
Your Favours hang like Scutcheons o're his Grave:
His Death hath Justice satisfied: from you
We doe (on his behalf) for Mercy sue.
Let not your hasty Censures raise those stones
Which doe Inurn him, or disturb his Bones,
And throw his Ashes in the air, be wise,
Lest his proud Dust rise, and put out your eyes.
Bridle your Passion: 'twere sin, your breath
Should sting his Name, and blast him after Death.
My Fancy prompts Me, that your Votes will give
(Attested by your hands) a large Reprieve
'Gainst Envie's doom, and that his Genius shall
Not be condemn'd as quite Apocryphall:
If any strain's unsav'ry, or don't fit
Your Humour, say it is a Bastard-Wit:
It is our hopes in Country, Court, and City,
If not your Love, We shall deserve your Pity.
FINIS.
| The Bastard | |