Epilogue

Enter Epilogue .

EPILOGUE. ’Tis ten to one this play can never please All that are here. Some come to take their ease, And sleep an act or two—but those, we fear, We’ve frighted with our trumpets; so, ’tis clear, They’ll say ’tis naught—others, to hear the city Abused extremely and to cry “That’s witty!”— Which we have not done neither—that I fear All the expected good we’re like to hear For this play at this time is only in The merciful construction of good women, For such a one we showed ’em. If they smile And say ’twill do, I know within a while All the best men are ours; for ’tis ill hap If they hold when their ladies bid ’em clap.

[ Exit. ]