 | The Persian Princess : Or, The Royal Villain |  |
EPILOGUE.
Curse on the Custom, that demands your StayFor Epilogue, when tir'd with damn'd dull Play!
Us, and your selves from this hard Task release;
And let the grating Imposition cease.
Lord! on what Thorns you sit, and seem so nettled,
Because kind Madam yields, and Bargain's settled.
For Heav'n's Sake, been't thus eager for the Lure,
You may too soon repent the hot Amour.
Better be teiz'd with ten dull Poetasters,
Than single Recipe—for Love's Disasters!
One hearty Curse, and Epilogue's forgot:
But when that other Malady's your Lot,
You will not only Curse, but—curse, and rot.
Well, take your Fates; whene'er such Passions warm ye,
We Players, like Priests, may chide, but ne'er reform ye.
Bewitching Sin has Charms, I know, must last,
'Till Age, in spite of Frailty, make you Chaste:
Unless Repentance of some dear-bought Pleasure
Effect at once, what Age would do at Leisure.
FINIS.
| The Persian Princess : Or, The Royal Villain | |