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Epilogue,
TO
LOVE and HONOR,
A Tragicomedy.
Troth Gentlemen, you must vouchsafe awhile
T'excuse my Mirth; I cannot chuse but smile!
And 'tis to thinke, how like a subtle Spie,
Our Poet waits, to heare his destinie:
Just i'th pay'd-Entry as you passe; the place
Where first you mention your dislike, or grace.
Pray whisper softly, that he may not heare;
Or else, such words, as shall not blast his Eare.
T'excuse my Mirth; I cannot chuse but smile!
And 'tis to thinke, how like a subtle Spie,
Our Poet waits, to heare his destinie:
Just i'th pay'd-Entry as you passe; the place
Where first you mention your dislike, or grace.
Pray whisper softly, that he may not heare;
Or else, such words, as shall not blast his Eare.
Epilogue
