And the epilogue, much shorter, was as follows:—
“And how do you like her? Come, what is’t ye drive at?
She’s the same thing in public as in private,
As far from being what you call a whore
As Desdemona injured by the Moor:
Then he that censures her in such a case
Hath a soul blacker than Othello’s face.
But, ladies, what think you? for it you tax
Her freedom with dishonour to your sex,
She means to act no more, and this shall be