MRS ART.  The welcom’st pledge that yet I ever took: 
Were this wine poison, or did taste like gall,
The honey-sweet condition of your draught
Would make it drink like nectar:  I will pledge you,
Were it the last that I should ever drink.

Y. ART.  Make that account:  thus, gentlemen, you see
Our late discord brought to a unity.

AMIN. Ecce, quam bonum et quam jucundum
Est habitare fratres in unum.

O. ART.  My heart doth taste the sweetness of your pledge,
And I am glad to see this sweet accord.

O. LUS.  Glad, quotha? there’s not one among’st us,
But may be exceeding glad.

JUS.  I am, ay, marry, am I, that I am.

Y. LUS.  The best accord that could betide their loves.

ANS.  The worst accord that could betide my love.

[All about to rise.

AMIN:  What, rising, gentles? keep your place,
I will close up your stomachs with a grace;
O Domine et care Pater,
That giv’st us wine instead of water;
And from the pond and river clear
Mak’st nappy ale and good March beer;
That send’st us sundry sorts of meat,
And everything 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.