EPILOGUS.
Reading edition
Thus two hours have brought to end What many tedious hours have penn'd: He dares not glory nor distrust; But he (as other writers must) Submits the tensures[444] of his pains To those, whose wit and nimble brains Are able best to judge: and as for some Who, filled with malice, hither come To belch their poison on his labour, Of them he doth entreat no favour; But bids them hang or soon amend, For worth shall still itself defend. And for ourselves we do desire, You'll breathe on us that glowing[445] fire, By which in time we may obtain Like favours which some others gain; For be assur'd our loves shall tend To equal theirs, if not transcend.