 | The Tempest, or The Enchanted Island |  |
Epilogue.
Gallants
, by all good signs it does appear,
That Sixty seven's a very damning year,
For Knaves abroad, and for ill Poets here.
That Sixty seven's a very damning year,
For Knaves abroad, and for ill Poets here.
Among the Muses there's a gen'ral rot,
The Rhyming Monsieur, and the Spanish Plot:
Defie or Court, all's one, they go to Pot.
The Rhyming Monsieur, and the Spanish Plot:
Defie or Court, all's one, they go to Pot.
The Ghosts of Poets walk within this place,
And haunt us Actors wheresoe'r we pass,
In Visions bloudier then King Richard's was.
And haunt us Actors wheresoe'r we pass,
In Visions bloudier then King Richard's was.
For this poor Wretch, he has not much to say.
But quietly brings in his part o'th' Play,
And begs the favour to be damn'd to day.
But quietly brings in his part o'th' Play,
And begs the favour to be damn'd to day.
He sends me onely like a Sh'riff's man here,
To let you know the Malefactor's near,
And that he means to die, en Cavalier.
To let you know the Malefactor's near,
And that he means to die, en Cavalier.
For if you shou'd be gracious to his Pen,
Th' Example will prove ill to other men,
And you'll be troubl'd with 'em all agen.
Th' Example will prove ill to other men,
And you'll be troubl'd with 'em all agen.
FINIS.
| The Tempest, or The Enchanted Island | |