Its slow beginning will portend
A forward exit to all future end.
Bayes. Pish! there you are out; to all future end! no, no; to all future END! You must lay the accent upon "end," or else you lose the conceit.
Smith. I see you are very perfect in these matters.
Bayes. Ay, sir, I have been long enough at it, one would think, to know something.
Enter Soldiers, dragging in an old Fisherman.
Ama. Villain, what monster did corrupt thy mind
T' attack the noblest soul of human kind?
Tell me who set thee on.
Fish. Prince Prettyman.