To anger justice. Go! your wanton lovers
Are gone; ye never shall concern them more.
Nor none of them, nor ye that mock old men
Shall know what ’tis to have grey hairs. Begone!
For when Ulysses cometh, as men hang
Bunches of grapes upon a string to dry,
So shall he set you dangling in the court
By your white necks. Fly to your chambers! Fly!
Ulysses comes.
Maids. Ah, ah, ah! Mercy on us! [Exeunt.