we drink or eat;
To maids, to wives, to boys, to men,
_Laus Deo Sancto_, Amen.

Y. ART. So, much good do ye all, and, gentlemen,
Accept your welcomes better than your cheer.

O. LUS. Nay, so we do, I'll give you thanks for all.
Come, Master Justice, you do walk our way,
And Master Arthur, and old Hugh your man;
We'll be the first [that] will strain courtesy.

JUS. God be with you all!

[_Exeunt_ O. ART., O. LUS., _and_ JUS. REASON.

AMIN. _Proximus ego sum_, I'll be the next,
And man you home; how say you, lady?

Y. ART. I pray you do, good Sir Aminadab.

MRS MA. Sir, if it be not too much trouble to you,
Let me entreat that kindness at your hands.

AMIN. Entreat! fie! no, sweet lass, command;
_Sic_, so, _nunc_, now, take the upper hand.

[_Exit_ MRS MARY _escorted by_ AMINADAB.

Y. ART. Come, wife, this meeting was all for our sakes:
I long to see the force my poison takes. [_Aside_.

MRS ART. My dear-dear husband, in exchange of hate,
My love and heart shall on your service wait.

[_Exeunt_ Y. ART., MRS ART., _and_ PIPKIN.

ANS. So doth my love on thee; but long no more;
To her rich love thy service is too poor.

FUL. For shame, no more! you had best expostulate
Your love with every stranger; leave these sighs,
And change them to familiar conference.

Y. LUS. Trust me, the virtues of young Arthur's wife,
Her constancy, modest humility,
Her patience, and admired temperance,
Have made me love all womankind the better.

_Re-enter_ PIPKIN.

PIP. O, my mistress! my mistress! she's dead!
She's gone! she's dead! she's gone!

ANS. What's that he says?

PIP. Out of my way! stand back, I say!
All joy from earth has fled!
She is this day as cold as clay;
My mistress she is dead!
O Lord, my mistress! my mistress! [_Exit_.

ANS. What, Mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanish'd,
And the world's wonder from the world quite banish'd.
O, I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse;
I am quite struck through with this late discourse.

FUL. What! faint'st thou, man? I'll lead thee hence; for shame!
Swoon at the tidings of a woman's death!
Intolerable, and beyond all thought!
Come, my love's fool, give me thy hand to lead;
This day one body and two hearts are dead.

[_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER.

Y. LUS. But now she was as well as well might be,
And on the sudden dead; joy in excess
Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul.
I'll after, and