[Ricardo addresses the Epilogue to the audience]
He that, without your likings, leaves this place,
Is like one falls to meat and forgets grace,
And that’s not handsome, trust me, no.
Our rights being paid, and your loves understood,
My widow and my meat then does me good.
— I ha’ no money, wench; I told thee true.
For my report — pray, let her hear’t from you.
Exeunt