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Duke Sen. He uses his folly like a stalking horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, Rosalind in woman's cloaths,
STILL MUSIC K. Hym. Then is there mirth in heav'n,
When earthly things made even
rea, brought her bither :
Ros. To you I give my self; for I am yours.
[To the Duke. To you I give my felf; for I am yours. [Ta Orlando. Duke Sen. If there be truth in fight, you are my
daughter. Orla. If there be truth in fight, you are my Rosa
Rof. I'll have no father, if you be not he;
not she, Hym. Peace, hoa! I bar confusion : 'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these moit strange events :
If truth holds true contents.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we fing,
S O N., G.
O bleffed bond of board and bed!
High wedlock then be honoured:
To Hymen, God of every town!
Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;
Enter Jaques de Boys.
That here were well begun, and well begot:
Jaq. Sir, by your patience : if I heard you rightly,
ag. de B. He hath.
Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites
[ To Orla. You to your land, and love, and great allies ;
[ To Oli. You to a long and well deserved bed ;
[To Silv. And you to wrangling ; for thy loving voyage
[To the Cloun.
Jaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would have,
Duke Sen. Proceed, proceed; we will begin these As, we do trust they'll end, in true delights.
E P I L OG U E.
Rof. It is not the fashion to see the lady the Epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good Play needs no Epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes ; and gocd Plays P4
prove the better by the help of good Epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good Epilogue, nor can infinuate with you in the behalf of a good Play?..I am not furnish d like a beggar ; therefore to beg will not become me. My way is to conjure you, and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, Owomen, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this Play as pleases you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your fimpring, none of you hate them) that between you and the women; the Play may please. If I were a woman, I would kifs as many of you as had. beards that pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defy'd not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will for my kind 'offer, when I make curt'fie,