1. To Eug. You shall e’re long play with your own Baby.
2. To Ger. Your Love my Lord, will have good end.
1. Gip. sings. Thus we Live merrily, merrily, merrily,
And thus to our Dancing we sing;
Our Lands and our Livings
Lye in others believings,
When to all Men we tell the same thing:
And thus to our Dancing we sing.
Thus we, &c.
[An Antique of Gipsies, and Exeunt.
Anto. By this we see that all the Worlds a Cheat,
Where truths and falshoods lye so intermixt,
And are so like each other, that ’tis hard
To find the difference; who would not think these People
A real pack of such as we call Gipsies.
Ger. Things perfectly alike are but the same;
And these were Gipsies, if we did not know
How to consider them the contrary;
So in Terrestial things there is not one
But takes its Form and Nature from our fancy;
Not its own being, and is what we do think it.
Anto. But truth is still it self.
Ger. No, not at all, as truth appears to us;
For oftentimes
That is a truth to me that’s false to you,
So ’twould not be if it was truly true.
Enter Pedro and a Servant, with a Letter to Antonio.
Serv. My Lord, Don John salutes you in that Letter.