Epilogue. Poem by Ephelia

The Play is damned; well, That we looked to hear,
Yet Gentlemen, pray be not too severe.
Though now the Poet at your Mercy lies,
Fate's wheel may turn, and she may chance to rise.
Though she's an humble Suppliant now to you,
Yet time may come, that you to her may Sue.
Pardon small Errors, be not too unkind,
For if you be, she'll keep it in her mind;
The self same usage that you give her Play,
She'll copy back to you another day.
If you her Wit, or Plot, or Fancy blame,
When you Addresses make, She'll do the same;
But if you'll Clap the Play, and Praise the Rhyme,
She'll do as much for you another time.