Act 5 — THE EPILOGUE AT BLACKFRIARS.

Once more the Author, ere you rise, doth say, Though he have public warrant for his play, Yet he to the King's command needs the King's writ To keep him safe, not to be arraign'd for wit. Not that he fears his name can suffer wrack From them who sixpence pay and sixpence crack, To such he wrote not; though some parts have been So like here, that they to themselves came in. To them who call't reproof to make a face, Who think they judge, when they frown i' th' wrong place, Who, if they speak not ill o' th' poet, doubt They lose by the play, nor have their two shillings out; He says, he hopes they'll not expect he'd woo, The play being done, they'd end their sour looks too. But before you, who did true hearers sit, Who singly make a box, and fill the pit, Who do[263] this comedy read, and unseen, Had throng'd theatres and Blackfriars been, He for his doom stands: your hands are his bays, Since they can only clap who know to praise.