I would now ask ye how ye like the play,
But, as it is with schoolboys, cannot say;
I am cruel fearful. Pray yet stay awhile,
And let me look upon ye. No man smile?
Then it goes hard, I see. He that has
Loved 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 have 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, goodnight.