 | Revenge For Honour |  |
EPILOGUE.
I'm much displeas'd the Poet has made meThe Epilogue to his sad Tragedie.
Would I had dy'd honestly amongst the rest,
Rather then live to th'last, now to be prest
To death by your hard Censures. Pray you say,
What is it you dislike so in this Play,
That none applauds? Beleeve it, I should faint,
Did not some smile, and keep me by constraint
From the sad qualm. What pow'r is in your breath,
That you can save alive, and doom to death,
Even whom you please? thus are your judgmeuts free,
Most of the rest are slain, you may save me.
But if death be the word, I pray bestow it
Where it best fits. Hang up the Poet.
| Revenge For Honour | |