Epilogue — The Two Noble Kinsmen

The argument A speaker addresses the audience directly, admitting uncertainty about the play's reception and asking for applause on the grounds that any man who has ever loved a beautiful young woman owes the play his goodwill.

I would now ask ye how you like the play,

But, as it is with schoolboys, cannot say.

I am cruel fearful! Pray yet, stay a while,

And let me look upon ye. No man smile?

Then it goes hard, I see. He that has

Loved a young handsome wench, then, show his face—

’Tis strange if none be here—and, if he will,

Against his conscience let him hiss, and kill

Our market. ’Tis in vain, I see, to stay ye.

Have at the worst can come, then! Now what say ye?

And yet mistake me not: I am not bold;

We have no such cause. If the tale we have told

For ’tis no other—any way content ye—

For to that honest purpose it was meant ye—

We have our end; and you shall have ere long,

I dare say, many a better, to prolong

Your old loves to us. We, and all our might,

Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night.

[_Flourish. Exit._]

FINIS

The Reckoning

After the weight of 5-4 — Arcite's death, Palamon's paradox, Theseus's bewildered closing — the epilogue arrives like a performer stepping outside the fourth wall to exhale. It's brief, charming, self-deprecating, and ends with a direct appeal to male sentiment: if you've ever loved a beautiful woman, don't hiss. It works by deflating everything that came before — not undermining it, but releasing the audience from the grip of tragedy into the normal world. The play is over. Did you like it? We're not sure you did.

If this happened today…

A director steps out after the curtain call, microphone in hand, visibly nervous. 'I'd ask you how you liked the film, but — like a student after an exam — I find I can't. Look: if anyone in this room has ever loved a beautiful woman, please don't walk out talking it down. We meant well. We'll make more. Goodnight.'