I would now ask ye how ye like the play;
But, as it is with school-boys, cannot say
I’m cruel fearful. Pray, yet stay a while
And let me look upon ye. No man smile?
Then it goes hard, I see. He that has
Lov’d a young handsome wench, then, show his face⁠—
’Tis strange if none be here⁠—and, if he will
Against his conscience, let him hiss, and kill
Our market. ’Tis in vain, I see, to stay ye:
Have at the worst can come, then! Now what say ye?
And yet mistake me not; I am not bold;
We have no such cause. If the tale we’ve told⁠—
For ’tis no other⁠—any way content ye⁠—
For to that honest purpose it was meant ye⁠—
We have our end; and ye shall have ere long,
I dare say, many a better, to prolong
Your old loves to us. We and all our might
Rest at your service: gentlemen, good night. Flourish.