We need not noble Gentlemen to invite Attention, preinstruct you who did write This worthy Story, being confident The mirth join'd with grave matter, and Intent To yield the hearers profit, with delight, Will speak the maker: and to do him right, Would ask a Genius like to his; the age Mourning his loss, and our now widdowed stage In vain lamenting. I could adde, so far Behind him the most modern writers are, That when they would commend him, their best praise Ruins the buildings which they strive to raise To his best memory, so much a friend Presumes to write, secure 'twill not offend The living that are modest, with the rest That may repine he cares not to contest. This debt to Fletcher paid; it is profest By us the Actors, we will do our best To send such favouring friends, as hither come To grace the Scene, pleas'd, and contented home.
Epilogue
Though something well assur'd, few here repent Three hours of pretious time, or money spent On our endeavours, Yet not to relye Too much upon our care, and industrie, 'Tis fit we should ask, but a modest way How you approve our action in the play. If you vouchsafe to crown it with applause, It is your bountie, and you give us cause Hereafter with a general consent To study, as becomes us, your content.