EPILOGUE. OUR play is done, and yours doth now begin: What different fancies people now are in: How strange and odd a mingle it would make, If, ere they rise, 'twere possible to take All votes. But as when an authentic watch is shown, (And that's of life and death); for each man sees, EPILOGUE FOR THE COURT. SIR, THAT HAT the abusing of your ear's a crime, Above th' excuse any six lines in rhyme Can make, the poet knows: I am but sent T' intreat he may not be a president,1 For he does think, that in this place there be Many have done 't as much and more than he. But here's, he says, the difference of the fates, He begs a pardon after 't, they estates. 1 [Precedent.] 'FOR Though kind last 'sizes, 'twill be now severe; For it is thought, and by judicious men, But 'twould be vain for me now to endear, Are thought to want, that find not want i' th' play. But where the servant had his mistress got, |