Each distinct service we shall well repay,
As best our dignity and state befit.
To-morrow, Lords, we’ll meet at Westminster;
For your ripe ages and experience,
Must teach our young and giddy years the way,
To sow content after these dismal times.
[Curtain drops.
“Fool comes forward.”
“Methinks, but now I heard some gentles say,—
Where’s master Fool? I’troth, he’s run away.