Page:Madagascar, with other poems - Davenant (1638).djvu/138

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Epilogue,
To a Vacation Play
at the Globe.

The speaker enter'd with a Sword drawne.

For your owne sakes (Poore Soules!) you had not bestBeleeve, my fury was so much supprestI'th'heat of the last Scene, as now you mayBoldly, and safely too, cry downe our Play!For if you dare, but Murmure one false Note,Here in the House, or going to take Bote;By Heav'n, I'le mowe you off, with my long Sword;Yeo'man, and Squire, Knight, Lady, and her Lord!With reason too; for since my whole part liesI'th' Play, to Kill the King's chiefe Enemies;How can you scape? (be your owne Judges) whenYou lay sad plots, to begger the Kings-Men.

To

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