SparkNotes: Complete Text of Henry VIII: THE EPILOGUE.

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THE 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,

W'have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,

They'll say 'tis nought; others to hear the city

Abus'd extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!'

Which we have not done neither; that, I fear,

All the expected good w'are like to hear

For this play at this time is only in

The merciful construction of good women;

For such a one we show'd '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.

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