Char. Here, Hylas, take my daughter,
For she is thine: you, Daphnis, I did further
In all I could, till you would find a trick
To put yourself beside her.
Ner. I forgive him:
For though it was ill-meant, yet did it sort
By accident unto my good.
Mon. But will
Our laws permit a ravisher to live?
Hyl. No, no, Montanus: let him live, and envy
Our present happiness.
Daph. Cover, you gods,
The world in public ruin, or else show me
A way to hide my shame.
Mon. What will he do?
Mir. He will go hang himself: what plots he had
To fool himself with!
Mon. They that practise tricks,
Find them as jades, that throw 'em first, then kick 'em,
As his has done.
Char. Come, shepherds, let's away,
And solemnise these nuptials.
Mir. Stay, Montanus,
Did the king send for you?