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Epilogue.

Stay , stay Sir, I'm as hungry of my Widdow
As you can be upon your Maid beleeve it,
But we must come to our desires in order,
There's duties to be paid, e'r we goe further;
Hee that without your likings, leaves this place,
Is like one falls to meat, and forgets grace.
And that's not hansome trust me, no,
Our rights being paid, and your loves understood,
My Widow, and my meat, then do's me good;
I ha' no money Wench, I told thee true,
For my report, pray let her hear't from you.
FINIS.