University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE.

Now let me be a modost undertaker
For us the players, the play and the play-maker:
If we have faild in speech or Action, we
Must crave a pardon; If the Commedy
Either in mirth, or matter be not right,
As 'twas intended unto your delight,
The Poet in hope of favour doth submit
Unto your censure both himself and it,
Wishing that as y'are judges in the cause
You judge but by the antient Comick Lawes.
Not by their course who in this latter age
Have sown such pleasing errors on the stage,
Which he no more will chuse to imitate
Then they to fly from truth, and run the State.
But whether I avail, you have seen the play,
And all that in defence the Poet can say
Is, that he cannot mend it by a jest
I'th Epilogue exceeding all the rest;
To send you off upon a champing bit,
More then the scenes afforded of his wit:
Nor studies he the Art to have it said
He sculks behind the hangings as affraid
Of a hard censure, or pretend to brag
Here's all your money again brought in i'th bag
If you applaud not, when before the word
'Twas parcel'd out upon the shearing-board.
Such are fine helps; but are not practised yet
By our plain Poet who cannot forget
His wonted modesty, and humble way
For him and us, and his yet doubtful play,
Which, if receiv'd or but allow'd by you,
We and the play are yours, the Poet too.