Text — Epilogue

First, my fear; then, my curtsy; last myspeech. My fear is, your displeasure, mycurtsy, my duty, and my speech, to beg yourpardon. If you look for a good speech now, you 4undo me; for what I have to say is of mineown making; and what indeed I should saywill, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But tothe purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known 8to you,—as it is very well,—I was lately here inthe end of a displeasing play, to pray yourpatience for it and to promise you a better. Idid mean indeed to pay you with this; which, 12if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, Ibreak, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here,I promised you I would be, and here I commitmy body to your mercies: bate me some and I 16will pay you some; and, as most debtors do,promise you infinitely.

If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me,will you command me to use my legs? and yet 20that were but light payment, to dance out of yourdebt. But a good conscience will make anypossible satisfaction, and so will I. All thegentlewomen here have forgiven me: if the 24gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do notagree with the gentlewomen, which was neverseen before in such an assembly.

One word more, I beseech you. If you be not 28too much cloyed with fat meat, our humbleauthor will continue the story, with Sir John init, and make you merry with fair Katharine ofFrance: where, for anything I know, Falstaff 32shall die of a sweat, unless already a' be killedwith your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died amartyr, and this is not the man. My tongue isweary; when my legs are too, I will bid you 36good night: and so kneel down before you; but,indeed, to pray for the queen.

Epilogue; cf. n.7 doubt: fear14 break: become bankrupt16 bate: remit

38 to pray for the queen; cf. n.