_These._ In this place first you fought: Even very here I sundred you, acknowledg to the gods Our thanks that you are living: His part is play'd, and though it were too short He did it well: your day is length'ned, and The blissfull dew of heaven do's arowze you: The powerfull _Venus_, well hath grac'd her Altar, And given you your love: Our Master _Mars_, Hast vouch'd his Oracle, and to _Arcite_, gave The grace of the Contention: So the Deities Have shew'd due justice: Bear this hence. _Pal._ O Cosen, That we should things desire, which doe cost us The loss of our desire; That nought could buy Dear love, but loss of dear love. _Thes._ Never Fortune Did play a subtler Game: The conquer'd triumphs, The victor has the Loss: yet in the passage, The gods have been most equall: _Palamon_, Your kinsman hath confest the right o'th' Lady Did lye in you, for you first saw her, and Even then proclaim'd your fancie: He restor'd her As your stolen Jewell, and desir'd your spirit To send him hence forgiven; The gods my justice Take from my hand, and they themselves become The Executioners: Lead your Lady off; And call your Lovers from the stage of death, Whom I adopt my Friends. A day or two Let us look sadly, and give grace unto The Funerall of _Arcite_, in whose end The visages of Bridegroomes we'll put on And smile with _Palamon_; For whom an hour, But one hour since, I was as dearly sorry, As glad of _Arcite_: And am now as glad, As for him sorry. O you heavenly Charmers, What things you make of us? For what we lack We laugh, for what we have, are sorry still, Are children in some kind. Let us be thankefull For that which is, and with you leave dispute That are above our question: Let's goe off, And bear us like the time. [_Florish. Exeunt._ EPILOGUE. _I would now aske ye how ye like the Play,_ _But as it is with School Boys, cannot say,_ _I 'm cruell fearefull: 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 hansome 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 th' tale we have told_ _(For 'tis no other) any way content ye_ _(For to that honest purpose it was ment 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._ [Florish. APPENDIX.