_Soph._ I see in both, fair signs of reconcilement, Make them sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer To your free choice, either to live Examples Of Piety, or wickedness: if the later Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot Pierce through her painted out-side, and discover That she is all deformity within, Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief, And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies, The murther of a Mother, but begin The stain of bloud you after are to heighten: But if that vertue, and her sure rewards, Can win you to accept her for your guide, To lead you up to Heaven, and there fix you The fairest Stars in the bright Sphere of honour; Make me the parent of an hundred sons, All brought into the world with joy, not sorrow, And every one a Father to his Country, In being now made Mother of your concord. _Rol._ Such, and so good, loud fame for ever speak you. _Bal._ I, now they meet like Brothers. [_The Brothers cast away their Swords and embrace._ _Gis._ My hearts joy flows through my eyes. _Aub._ May never Womans tongue Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones Goodness. _Otto._ If we contend, from this hour, it shall be How to o'recome in brotherly affection. _Rol._ _Otto_ is _Rollo_ now, and _Rollo_, _Otto_, Or as they have one mind, rather one name: From this attonement let our lives begin, Be all the rest forgotten. _Aub._ Spoke like _Rollo_. _Soph._ And to the honour of this reconcilement, We all this night will at a publick Feast With choice Wines drown our late fears, and with Musick Welcome our comforts. _Bald._ Sure and certain ones. [_Exeunt._ [_Manent_ Grandpree, Verdon, Trevile _and_ Duprete. _Grand._ Did ever such a hopeful business end thus? _Ver._ 'Tis fatal to us all, and yet you _Grandpree_, Have the least cause to fear. _Grand._ Why, what's my hope? _Ver._ The certainty that you have to be hang'd; You know the Chancellours promise. _Grand._ Plague upon you. _Ver._ What think you of a Bath, and a Lords Daughter To entertain you? _Grand._ Those desires are off. Frail thoughts, all friends, no _Rollians_ now, nor _Ottoes_: The sev'ral court'sies of our swords and servants Defer to after consequence; let's make use Of this nights freedom, a short Parliament to us, In which it will be lawful to walk freely. Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's No usual business to the men o'th' sword. Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow, Or whip, or hang the merrier. _Tre._ Lead the way then. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Latorch, _and_ Rollo. _Lato._ Why should this trouble you?