Fifty comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen ; all in one volume, published by the authors original copies, the songs to each play being added.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Otrante and Florimell singing.

1. SONG.

Flo.

Now having leisure, and a happy wind, Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind, Sayls spread, and grist here ready to be ground, Fie, stand not idlely, but let the Mill go round.

Otr.

Why dost thou sing and dance thus? why so merry? Why dost thou look so wantonly upon me? And kiss my hands?

Flo.

If I were high enough, I would kiss your lips too.

Otr.

Do, this is some kindness, This tastes of willingness, nay, you may kiss Still, but why o'th' sudden now does the fit take ye, Unoffer'd, or uncompell'd? why these sweet curtesies? Even now you would have blush'd to death to kiss thus: Prethee let me be prepar'd to meet thy kindness, I shall be unfurnish'd else to hold thee play, wench: Stay now a little, and delay your blessings; If this be love, methinks it is too violent: If you repent you of your strictness to me, It is so sudden, it wants circumstance.

Flo.

Fy, how dull?

2. SONG.

How long shall I pine for love? how long shall I sue in vain? How long like the Turtle-Dove shall I heavi••ly thus complain? Shall the sayls of my love stand still? Shall the grists of my hopes be unground? Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie, Let the Mill, let the Mill go round.

Otr.

Prethee be calm a little, Thou mak'st me wonder, thou that wert so strange, And read such pious rules to my behavior But yesternight, thou that wert made of modesty, Shouldst in a few short minutes turn thus desperate.

Flo.

You are too cold.

Otr.

I do confess I freeze now, I am another thing all over me: It is my part to wooe, not to be courted: Unfold this Riddle, 'tis to me a wonder, That now 'oth' instant ere I can expect, Ere I can turn my thoughts, and think upon A separation of your honest carriage From the desires of youth, thus wantonly, Thus beyond expectation.

Flo.

I will tell ye, And tell ye seriously, why I appear thus, To hold ye no more ignorant and blinded, I have no modestie, I am truly wanton: I am that you look for Sir; now come up roundly: If my strict face and counterfeited statelyness Could have won on ye, I had caught ye that way, And you should never have come to have known who hurt ye. Prethee (sweet Count) be more familiar with me. How ever we are open in our natures, And apt to more desires than you dare meet with, Yet we affect to lay the gloss of good on't: I saw you touch not at the bait of chastity, And that it grew distasteful to your palate To apppear so holy, therefore I take my true shape: Is your bed ready Sir? you shall quickly find me.

3. SONG

On the bed Ile throw thee, threw thee down; Down being laid, shall we be afraid To try the rights that b••long to love? No, no, there I'll woe thee with a Crown, Crown our desires, kindle the fires, When love requires we should wanton prove, We'll kiss, we'll sport, we'll laugh, we'll play, If thou com'st short, for thee I'll stay, If thou unskilful art on the ground, I'll kindly teach, we'll have the Mill go round.

Otr.

Are ye no Maid.

Flo.

Alas (my Lord) no certain: I am sorry you are so innocent to think so, Is this an age for silly Maids to thrive in? It is so long too since I lost it Sir, That I have no belief I ever was one: What should you do with Maiden-heads? you hate 'em, They are peevish, petty things, that hold no game up, No pleasure neither, they are sport for Surgeons: I'll warrant you I'll fit you beyond Maiden-head: A fair and easie way men travel right in, And with delight, discourse, and twenty pleasures, They enjoy their journey; mad men creep through hedges.

Otr.

I am metamorphos'd: why do you appear, I conjure ye, beyond belief thus wanton?

Flo.

Because I would give ye Pleasure beyond belief.

4. SONG.

Think me still in my Fathers Mill, where I have oft been found-a Thrown on my back, on a well-fill'd sack, while the Mill has still gone round-a: Prethe sirrah try thy skill, and again let the mill go round-a.

Otr.

Then you have traded?

Flo.

Traded? how should I know else how to live Sir, And how to satisfie such Lords as you are, Our best guests, and our richest?

Otr.

How I shake now? You take no base men?

Flo.

Any that will offer, All manner of men, and all Religions Sir, We touch at in our time: all States and Ages, We exempt none.

5. SONG.

The young one, the old one, the fearful, the bold one, the lame one, though nere so unsound, The Jew or the Turk, have leave for to work, the whilst that the M••ll goes round.

Otr.

You are a common thing then.

Flo.

No matter since you have your private pleasure, And have it by an Artist excellent, Whether I am thus, or thus, your men can tell ye.

Otr.

My Men? Defend me, how I freeze together, And am on Ice? do I bite at such an Orange After my men? I am preferr'd.

Flo.

Why stay ye? Why do we talk my Lord, and lose our time? Pleasure was made for lips, and sweet embraces, Let Lawyers use their tongues: pardon my Modesty, This desperate way must help; or I am miserable.

Otr.

She turns, and wipes her face, she weeps for certain, Some new way now, she cannot be thus beastly, She is too excellent fair to be thus impudent: She knows the elements of common looseness, The art of lewdness: that, that, that, how now, Sir?

Enter a servant.

Ser.

The King (and't please your Lordship) is alighted Close at the gate.

Otr.

The King?

Ser.

And calls for ye Sir. Means to break-fast here too.

Flo.

Then I am happy.

Otr.

Stol'n so suddenly? go lock her up. Lock her up where the Courtiers may not see her, Lock her up closely, sirrah, in my closet.

Ser.

I will (my Lord) what does she yield yet?

Exit.

Otr.

Peace: She is either a damn'd divel, or an Angel, No noise (upon your life Dame) but all silence.

Enter King, Lords, Vertigo, Lisauro, Terso.

Otr.

Your Majesty heaps too much honor on me, With such delight to view each several corner Of a rude pile: there's no proportion in't, Sir.

Phil.

Me-thinks 'tis handsome, and the rooms along Are neat, and well contriv'd: the Gallery Stands pleasantly and sweet: what rooms are these?

Otr.

They are sluttish ones.

Phil.

Nay, I must see.

Otr.

Pray ye do Sir, They are lodging-chambers over a homely garden.

Phil.

Fit still, and handsome; very well: and those?

Otr.

Those lead to the other side o'th' house, and't like ye

Phil.

Let me see those.

Otr.

Ye may, the dores are open. What would this view mean? I am half suspitious.

Phil.

This little Room?

Otr.

'Tis mean: a place for trash Sir, For rubbish of the house.

Phil.

I would see this too: I will see all.

Otr.

I beseech your Majesty, The savor of it, and the course appearance.

Phil.

'Tis not so bad, you would not offend your house with it, Come, let me see.

Otr.

Faith Sir,

Phil.

I'faith I will see.

Otr.

My Groom has the key Sir, and 'tis ten to one—

Phil.

But I will see it: force the lock (my Lords) There be smiths enough to mend it: I perceive You keep some rare things here, you would not show Sir.

Florimel discover'd.

Ter.

Here's a fair maid indeed.

Phil.

By my faith is she; A hansome girl: come forward, do not fear wench. I marry, here's a treasure worth concealing: Call in the Miller.

Otr.

Then I am discover'd. I confess all before the Miller comes Sir, 'Twas but intention, from all act I am clear yet.

Enter Franio.

Phil.

Is this your daughter?

Fra.

Yes, and't please your Highness. This is the shape of her, for her substance Sir, Whether she be now honorable or dishonorable: Whether she be a white-rose, or a canker is the question: I thank my Lord, he made bold with my Philly, If she be for your pace, you had best preserve her Sir, She is tender mouth'd, let her be broken handsomly.

Phil.

Maid, were you stoln?

Flo.

I went not willingly, And't please your Grace, I was never bred so boldly.

Phil.

How has he us'd ye?

Flo.

Yet Sir, very nobly.

Phil.

Be sure ye tell truth, and be sure (my Lord) You have not wrong'd her: if ye have, I tell ye You have lost me, and your self too: speak again (wench)

Flo.

He has not wrong'd me, Sir; I am yet a maid: By all that's white and innocent, I am Sir, Only I suffer'd under strong temptations. The heat of youth; but heaven deliver'd me. My Lord, I am no whore, for all I faigned it, And faign'd it cunningly, and made ye loath me: 'Twas time to out-do you: I had been rob'd else, I had been miserable, but I forgive ye.

Phil.

What recompence for this?

Otr.

A great one Sir, First a repentance, and a hearty one. Forgive me sweet.

Flo.

I do my Lord.

Otr.

I thank ye; The next take this, and these: all I have Florimel.

Flo.

No good my Lord, these often corrupt Maidens: I dare not touch at these; they are lime for Virgins; But if you'll give me.

Otr.

Any thing in my power. Or in my purchase.

Flo.

Take heed (noble Sir) You'll make me a bold asker.

Otr.

Ask me freely.

Flo.

Ask you? I do ask you, and I deserve ye, I have kept ye from a crying sin would damn ye To Men and Time: I have preserv'd your credit, That would have died to all posterity: Curses of maids shall never now afflict ye, Nor Parents bitter tears make your name barren: If he deserves well that redeems his Countrey, And as a Patriot be remembred nobly, Nay, set the highest: may not I be worthy To be your friend, that have preserv'd your honor?

Otr.

You are, and thus I take ye: thus I seal ye Mine own, and only mine.

Phil.

Count, she deserves ye, And let it be my happiness to give ye, I have given a virtuous maid, now I dare say it, 'Tis more then blood; I'll pay her portion Sir, And't shall be worthy you.

Fra.

I'll sell my Mill, I'll pay some too: I'll pay the Fidlers. And we'll have all i'th'Country at this wedding, Pray let me give her too, here my Lord take her, Take her with all my heart, and kiss her freely, Would I could give you all this hand has stol'n too, In portion with her, 'twould make her a little whiter. The wind blows fair now, get me a young Miller.

Ver.

She must have new clothes.

Tir.

Yes.

Vir.

Yes marry must she. If't please ye (Madam) let me see the state of your body. I'll fit you instantly.

Phil.

Art not thou gone yet?

Ver.

And't please your Grace, a gown, a handsome gown now, An orient gown.

Phil.

Nay, take thy pleasure of her.

Ver.

Of cloth of Tissew I can sit ye (Madam) My Lords, stand out o'th' light, a curious body, The neatest body in Spain this day: with embroidered flow'rs, A clinquant Petticoat of some rich stuffe, To catch the eye: I have a thousand fashions. O sleeve, O sleeve: I'll study all night (Madam) To magnifie your sleeve.

Otr.

Do, superstitious Tailor, When ye have more time.

Flo.

Make me no more then woman, And I am thine.

Otr.

Sir, haply my Wardrobe with your help May fit her instantly: will you try her?

Ver.

If I fit her not, your Wardrobe cannot. But if the fashion be not there, you marre her.

Enter Antonio, Constable, Officers.

Ant.

Is my offence so great, ere I be convict, To be torn with Rascals? If it be Law, Let 'em be wild horses rather than these.

Phil.

What•••• that?

Con.

This is a man suspected of murther, if it please your Grace.

Phil.

It pleases me not (friend) But who suspects him?

Const.

We that are your Highness extraordinary officers, ••e that have taken our oaths to maintain you in peace.

Phil.

'Twill be a great charge to you.

Const.

'Tis a great charge indeed; but then we call our neighbors to help us. This Gentleman and another were fallen out (yet that's more then I am able to say, for I heard no words between 'em, but what their weapons spoke, Clash, and Clatter) which we seeing, came with our Bills of government, and first knock'd down their weapons, and then the men.

Phil.

And this you did to keep the peace?

Const.

Yes, and't like your Grace, we knock'd 'em down to keep the peace: this we laid hold on, the other we set in the stocks. That I could do by mine own power, with∣out your Majesty.

Enter Aminta.

Phil.

How so, Sir?

Const.

I am a Shoo-maker by my Trade.

Am.

Oh my Husband! Why stands my husband as a man endanger'd? Restore him me, as you are merciful, I'll answer for him.

Ant.

What woman's this? what husband? hold thy bawling, I know thee for no wife.

Am.

You married me last night.

Ant.

Thou lyest: I neither was in Church nor house Last night, nor saw I thee: a thing that was my friend, I scorn to name now, was with Ismenia, Like a thief, and there he violated A sacred trust. This thou mayst know (Aminta.)

Am.

Are not you he?

Ant.

No; nor a friend of his: Would I had kill'd him: I hope I have.

Am.

That was my Husband (Royal Sir) that man, That excellent man.

Enter Bellides.

Ant.

That villain, that thief.

Bel.

Have I caught you Sir? well overtaken. This is mine enemy: pardon, (my Soveraign.)

Phil.

Good charity, to crave pardon for your enemy.

Bel.

Mine own pardon (Sir) for my joyes rudeness, In what place better could I meet my foe, And both of us so well provided too? He with some black blood-thirsty crime upon him, That (ere the horse-leech burst) will suck him dry: I with a second accusation, Enough to break his neck, if need should be, And then to have even Justice it self to right us: How should I make my joyes a little civil, They might not keep this noyse?

Ant.

Here is some hope. Should the ax be dull, the halter's preparing.

Phil.

What's your accusation, Sir? We have heard the former.

Enter Julio.

Bel.

Mine (my Lord?) a strong one.

Jul.

A false one, Sir. At least malicious: an evidence Of hatred and despight: He would accuse My poor kinsman of that he never dream'd of, Nor waking saw; the stealing of his daughter, She whom, I know, he would not look upon. Speak Antonio, Didst thou ever see her?

Ant.

Yes Sir, I have seen her.

Bel.

Ah ha, friend Julio.

Jul.

He might, but how? with an unheedful eye, An accidental view, as men see multitudes That the next day dare not precisely say They saw that face, or that amongst 'em all. Didst thou so look on her?

Bel.

Guilty, guilty: His looks hang themselves.

Phil.

Your patience (Genleman.) I pray you tell me if I be in errour, I may speak often when I should but hear: This is some show you would present us with, And I do interrupt it: Pray you speak, (It seems no more) Is't any thing but a show?

Bel.

My Lord, this Gentlewoman can show you all, So could my daughter too: if she were here; By this time they are both immodest enough: Shee's fled me, and I accuse this thief for't. Don Martin, his own friend's my testimony: A practis'd night-work.

Phil.

That Martin's the other In your custodie; he was forgotten: Fetch him hither.

Const.

Wee'll bring the Stocks and all else, and't please your Grace.

Enter Bustofa and Ismenia.

Am.

That man's my husband certain, instead of this: Both would have deceiv'd, and both beguil'd.

Bust.

Soh hoh, Miller, Miller, look out Miller: is there n'ere a Miller amongst you here, Gentlemen?

Tir.

Yes Sir, here is a Miller amongst Gentlemen, A Gentleman Miller.

Bust.

I should not be far off then; there went but a pair of sheers and a bodkin between us. Will you to work Mil∣ler? Here's a maid has a sack full of news for you: shall your stones walk? will you grind Miller?

Phil.

This your son, Franio?

Fra.

My ungratious, my disobedient, My unnatural, my rebel son (my Lord.)

Bust.

Fie, your hopper runs over, Miller.

Fra.

This villain (of my own flesh and blood) was accessary To the stealing of my daughter.

Bust.

Oh Mountain, Shalt thou call a molehill a scab upon the face Of the earth? though a man be a thief, shall a Miller call Him so? Oh egregious!

Jul.

Remember Sirrha, who you speak before.

Bust.

I speak before a Miller, A thief in grain; for he steals corn: He that steals A wench, is a true man to him.

Phil.

Can you prove that? you may help another cause that was in pleading.

Bust.

I'll prove it strongly. He that steals corn, steals the bread of the Common-wealth;

He that steals a wench, steals but the flesh.

Phil.

And how is the bread stealing more criminal then the flesh?

Bust.

He that steals bread, steals that which is lawful every day:

He that steals flesh, steals nothing from the fasting day: Ergo to steal the bread is the arranter theft.

Phil.

This is to some purpose.

Bust.

Again, he that steals flesh steals for his own belly full: He that steals bread, robs the guts of others: Ergo, The arranter thief the bread-stealer.

Again he that steals flesh, steals once, and gives over; yes, and often pays for it: the other steals every day, with∣out satisfaction. To conclude, Bread-stealing is the more capital crime: for what he steals he puts it in at the head: he that steals flesh (as the Dutch Author says) puts it in at the foot (the lower member.) Will you go as you are now, Miller?

Phil.

How has this satisfied you, Don Bellides?

Bel.

Nothing (my Lord) my cause is serious. I claim a daughter from that loving thiefe there.

Ant.

I would I had her for you, Sir.

Bel.

Ah ha, Julio.

Jul.

How said you, Antonio? Wish you, you had his daughter?

Ant.

With my soul I wish her; and my body Shall perish, but I'll injoy my souls wish. I would have slain my friend for his deceit, But I do find his own deceit hath paid him.

Jul.

Will you vex my soul forth? no other choice But where my hate is rooted? Come hither Girl, Whose pretty maid art thou?

Ism.

The child of a poor man, Sir.

Jul.

The better for it. With my Soveraigns leave, I'll wed thee to this man, will he, nill he.

Phil.

Pardon me, Sir, I'll be no Love enforcer: I use no power of mine unto those ends.

Jul.

Wilt thou have him?

Ism.

Not unless he love me.

Ant.

I do love thee: Farewell all other Beauties: I settle here: you are Ismenia.

Ism.

The same I was: better nor worse, (Antonio)

Ant.

I shall have your consent here, I'm sure, Sir.

Bel.

With all my heart, Sir. Nay, if you accept it, I'll do this kindness to mine enemy, And give her as a Father.

Ant.

Shee'll thank you as a Daughter. Will you not, Ismenia?

Bel.

How? Ismenia?

Ism.

Your daughter, Sir.

Bel.

Is't possible? Away you feeble witted things, You thought you had caught the old ones: you wade, you wade In shallow fords: we can swim, we: look here, We made the match: we are all friends good friends; Thin, thin: why the fool knew all this, this fool.

Bust.

Keep that to your self, Sir; What I knew I knew: This sack is a witness. Miller, this is not for your thum∣ming. Here's gold lace: you may see her in her holliday clothes if you will; I was her ward-robe-man.

Enter Martin, Aminta, Constable, Officers.

Ant.

You beguil'd me well, Sir.

Mar.

Did you speak to me, Sir?

Ant.

It might seem to you, Martin, your conscience Has quick ears.

Mar.

My sight was a little dim i'th' dark indeed, So was my feeling cozen'd; yet I'm content: I am the better understander now, I know my wife wants nothing of a woman; There y'are my Junior.

Ant.

You are not hurt?

Mar.

Not shrewdly hurt; I bave good flesh to heal, you see, Good round flesh: these cherries will be worth chopping, Crack stones and all; I should not give much to boot To ride in your new, and you in my old ones now.

Ant.

You mistake the weapon: are you not hurt?

Mar.

A little scratch: but I shall claw it off well enough.

Enter Gillian.

Gill.

I can no longer own what is not mine With a free conscience: My Liege, your pardon.

Phil.

For what? who knows this woman?

Fra.

I best, my Lord, I have been acquainted with her these forty Summers, And as many Winters, were it Spring agen; She's like the Gout I can get no cure for her.

Phil.

Oh, your Wife, Franio?

Fra.

'Tis oh my wife indeed, my Lord, A painful stitch to my side; would it were pick'd out.

Phil.

Well Sir, your silence.

Bust.

Will you be older and older every day than other? the longer you live the older still? Must his Majesty com∣mand your silence ere you'l hold your tongue?

Phil.

Your reprehension runs into the same fault: 'Pray Sir, will you be silent.

Bust.

I have told him of this before now, my Liege, but Age will have his course, and his weaknesses.

Phil.

Good Sir, your forbearance.

Bust.

And his frailties, and his follies, as I may say, that cannot hold his tongue ere he be bidden.

Phil.

Why Sirha?

Bust.

But I believe your Majesty will not be long trou∣bled with him: I hope that woman has something to confess will hang them both.

Phil.

Sirha, you'll pull your desteny upon you If you cease not the sooner.

Bust.

Nay, I have done, my Liege, yet it grieves me that I should call that man Father, that should be so shameless, that being commanded to hold his tongue.

Phil.

To th'Porters Lodge with him.

Bust.

I thank your Grace, I have a friend there.

Phil.

Speak woman, if any interruption meet thee more, It shall be punish'd sharply.

Gill.

Good my Liege, (I dare not) Ask you the question why that old man weeps.

Phil.

Who? Count Julio? I observ'd it not. You hear the question Sir, will you give the cause?

Jul.

Oh my Lord, it hardly will get passage, It is a sorrow of that greatness grown, 'Less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels.

Gill.

I'll help you Sir, in the delivery, And bring you forth a joy. You lost a daughter.

Jul.

'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.

Gill.

Shee's found again. Know you this mantle Sir?

Jul.

Hah?

Gill.

Nay leave your wonder, I'll explain it to you. This did enwrap your child, whom ever since I have call'd mine, when Nurse Amaranta In a remove from Mora to Corduba Was seiz'd on by a fierce and hungry Bear, She was the Ravins prey, as heaven so would, He with his booty fill'd, forsook the babe: All this was in my sight: and so long I saw, Untill the cruel creature left my sight, At which advantage I adventur'd me To rescue the sweet Lamb: I did it Sir, And ever since I have kept back your joy, And made it mine: but age hath wearied me, And bids me back restore unto the owner What I unjustly kept these fourteen years.

Jul.

Oh, thou hast ta'n so many years from me, And made me young as was her birth day to me. Oh (good my Liege) give my joys a pardon, I must go power a blessing on my child, Which here would be too rude and troublesome.

Exit.

Phil.

Franio, you knew this before.

Bust.

Oh, oh; Item for you Miller.

Fra.

I did (my Liege) I must confess I did, And I confess, I ne'r would have confess'd, Had not that womans tongue begun to me: We poor ones love, and would have comforts, Sir, As well as great: this is no strange sault, Sir, There's many men keep other mens children As though they were their own.

Bust.

It may stretch farther yet, I beseech you (my Liege) let this woman be a little farther examin'd; let the words of her conscience be search'd, I would know how she came by me: I am a lost child, if I be theirs: though I have been brought up in a Mill, yet I had ever a mind) me∣thought) to be a greater man.

Phil.

She will resolve you sure.

Gill.

I, I Boy: thou art mine own flesh and blood, Born of mine own body.

Bust.

'Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me; There's no trust in these Millers. Woman, tell the truth: my father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was, were he Knight, Squire, or Captain; less he should not be.

Gill.

Thou art mine own child, Boy.

Bust.

And was the Miller my Father?

Gill.

Wouldst thou make thy Mother a whore, Knave?

Bust.

I, if she make me a Bastard. The rack must make her confess (my Lord) I shall never come to know who I am else. I have a worshipful mind in me sure: methinks I do scorn poor folks.

Enter Otrante, Florimel and Julio, &c.

Phil.

Here comes the brightest glory of the day: Love yoak'd with love, the best equality, Without the level of estate or person.

Jul.

You both shall be rewarded bountifully, Wee'll be-a kin too; Brother and Sister Shall be chang'd with us ever.

Bust.

Thank you (Unkle) my sister is my cosen yet at the last cast: Farewell sister foster. If I had known the Civil Law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of Husband then thou hast: but much good do thee; I'll dance at thy wedding, kiss the Bride, and so.

Jul.

Why, how now sirha?

Bust.

'Tis lawful now, she's none of my Sister. It was a Miller and a Lord That had a scabbard and a sword He put it up in the Countrey word The Miller and his daughter. She has a face, and she can sing, She has a Grace, and she can spring, She has a place with another thing Tradoodle.

Fra.

A knavish Brother of yours (my Lord.)

Bust.

Would I were acquainted with your Taylor (Noble Brother.)

Otr.

You may: there he is: mine, newly entertain'd.

Ver.

If you have any work for me, I can sit you Sir, I sitted the Lady.

Bust.

My Sister (Tailor,) what fits her will hardly fit me.

Ver.

Who fits her may fit you Sir, the Tailor can do both.

Bust.

You have a true yard (Tailor.)

Ver.

Ne'r a whit too long, I warrant you.

Bust.

Then (Tailor) march with me a way I scorn these robes I must be gay, My noble Brother he shall pay Tom Tailor.

Exeunt.

Phil.

Your recovered friendships are sound, Gentlemen?

Bel.

At heart, at heart (my Lord) the worm shall not Beyond many ages find a breach to enter at.

Phil.

These Lovers unities I will not doubt of: How happy have you made our progress then, To be the witness of such fair Accords? Come, now we'll eat with you (my Lord Otrante,) 'Tis a charge sav'd: you must not grudge your guest, 'Tis both my welcome, and your Wedding-Feast.

Exeunt.