’Tis ten to one this play can never please

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

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.
 He exits.