FOOTNOTES:
[286] Bajazet and Tamerlane.
[287] [Prize.]
[THE EPILOGUE AT COURT.]
We have nothing left us but our blushes now
For your much penance; and though we allow
Our fears no comfort, since you must appear
Judges corrupt, if not to us severe:
Yet in your majesty we hope to find
A mercy, and in that our pardon sign'd.
And how can we despair you will forgive
Them who would please, when oft offenders live?
And if we have err'd, may not the courteous say,
'Twas not their trade, and but the Author's play?
[THE EPILOGUE AT THE FRIARS.]
What shall the Author do? It madness were
To entreat a mercy from you, who are severe
Stern judges, and a pardon never give;
For only merit with you makes things live.
He leaves you therefore to yourselves, and may
You gently 'quit, or else condemn, the play,
As in an upright conscience you'll think fit:
Your sentence is the life and death of wit.
The Author yet hath one safe plea, that though
A Middlesex jury on his play should go,
They cannot find the murder wilful, since
'Twas acted by command in his own defence.
[THE ANTIQUARY.]
EDITION.
The Antiquary. A Comedy, Acted by her maiesties Servants, at the Cock-Pit. Written by Shackerly Mermion, Gent. London. Printed by F. K. for I. W. and F. E. and are to be sold at the Crane, in St. Paul's Church-yard. 1641. 4o.