EPILOGUE
Plays are like feasts; and every act should be
Another course, and still variety:
But, in good faith, provision of wit
Is grown of late so difficult to get,
That, do we what we can, we are not able5
Without cold meats to furnish out the table.
Who knows but it was needless too? maybe,
'Twas here as in the coachman's trade; and he
That turns in the least compass shows most art.
Howe'er, the poet hopes, sir, for his part,10
You'll like not those so much, who shew their skill
In entertainment, as who shew their will.
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