Darius King of Persia a tragedy as it is acted by Their Majesties servants / written by Mr. Crowne.

The EPILOGUE, spoke by her that acts Barzana.

OƲR Poet fears he too much Blood has shed, So I am come to shew I am not dead. My Part, will all the wanton Masks displease; That's half the Pit, and all the Galleries. Rather than take into my Breast a Fair, And brave young Lover, thrust a Dagger there! You put your Bosomes to another use, 'Tis a vile Pagan Custome I produce. Pagans may rather dye, than be debauch'd, Good Christians Sin, to be well Kept and Coach'd. Besides, to kill my self for Love, I fear Will to you Sparks improbable appear, Who in side Boxes daily crowd, and there Plant all your murdering shot against the Fair Four Teer of Beaus, o're one another plac'd, And each one hopes to kill a Box at least. And yet with all this terrible design, Sink not one Heart, only the Playhouse Coyn. How you look down with scorn on a Pit Beau? The Wretch into his Grave does living go. The Lord may have some Mercy on his Ghost, Bus as for his poor Body, that's quite lost. Now our side Boxes are a Smithfield grown, Where Town and Country Nags for Sale are shown. Where any Lady may her humour fit, With a tall Palfry, or a little Tit.

And yet I do not hear the Ladies buy; Nay, Sirs, they towards you hardly cast an Eye. The Ladies nobly pay the House their due, Why shou'd they give four Shillings to see you? Not all your Faces are worth half the Sum, Get Flags and Trumpets, and try who will come. The Images of Virtue, we have shewn, We know will please you Hero's o' the Town, And Heroines, because they are your own. In Gallant faithful Patron, and my dear Lov'd Memnon, you brave men of Arms appear. The Ladies in Barzana, see your Face, Of their fair minds, but in no flattering Glass. All love to see themselves; the foul will stare In Glasses, though they meet with Goblings there. But all the little hopping fluttering Sparks, You catch with Glasses, as you do the Larks. Place a fair Glass directly in the eye Of a young Beau, he never can pass by. Young Souldiers discipline their Graces there, Face to the right, the left, then as you were.

[She combs first o're the right Shoulder, then o're the left, then sets her Cravat Strings.

We pray all daily to this Glass repair.

FINIS.