Laz. Well, though herrings want, I shall have rowes.
Assist. Signior, you have prevented us, and punish'd
Your selfe severelier than we would have done.
You have married a whore: may she prove honest.
Pio. 'Tis better, my Lord, than to marry an honest woman,
That may prove a whore.
Vit. 'Tis a hansome wench: and thou canst keep her tame
I'll send you what I promis'd.
Pio. Joy to your Lordships.
Alv. He[re] may all Ladies learn, to make of foes
The perfect'st friends: and not the perfect'st foes
Of dearest friends, as some do now a daies.
Vit. Behold the power of love, to nature lost
By custome irrecoverably, past the hope
Of friends restoring, Love hath here retriv'd
To her own habit, made her blush to see
Her so long monstrous Metamorphoses,
May strange affairs never have worse success. [Exeunt.
EPILOGUE.
OUr Author fears there are some Rebel hearts,
Whose dulness doth oppose loves piercing darts;
Such will be apt to say there wanted wit,
The language low, very few Scænes are writ
With spirit and life; such odd things as these
He cares not for, nor ever means to please;
For if your selves a Mistriss or loves friends,
Are lik'd with this smooth Play he hath his ends.
FINIS.