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 gad, to shew me one such Conqueror, as this Drawcansir.

Johns. I swear, I think you may.

Smi. But, Mr. Bayes, how shall all these dead men go off? for I see none alive to help 'em.

Bayes. Go off! why, as they came on; upon their legs: how should they go off? Why, do you think the people do not know they are not dead? He is mighty ignorant, poor man; your friend here is very silly, Mr. Johnson, I gad; he is. Come, Sir, I'l show you go off. Rise, Sirs, land go about your business. There's go off for you. Hark you, Mr. Ivory. Gentlemen, I'l be with you presently.

Johns. Will you so? then we'l be gone.

Smi. I, pr'ythee let's go, that we may preserve our hearing. One Battel more would take mine quite away.

Bayes. Where are the Gentlemen?

1 Play. They are gone, Sir.

Bayes. Gone! 'Sdeath, this last Act is best of all. I'l go fetch 'em again.

3 Play. Stay, here's a foul piece of papyr of his. Let's see what 'tis.

Cloris, at length, being sensible of Prince Pretty-man's passion, consents to marry him; but, just as they are going to Church, Prince Pretty-man meeting, by chance, with old Joan the Chandlers widow, and remembring it was she that first brought him acquainted with Cloris: out of a high point of honour, break off his match with Cloris, and marries old Joan. Upon which, Cloris, in despair, drowns her self: and Prince Pretty-man, discontentedly, walks by the River side.

1 Play. Pox on't, this will never do: 'tis just like the rest. Come, let's be gone.