O. LUS. Ay, 'tis best, 'tis best--
In sooth, there's no way but to go.

O. ART. Yet if our going should breed more unrest,
More discord, more dissension, more debate,
More wrangling where there is enough already?
'Twere better stay than go.

O. LUS. 'Fore God, 'tis true;
Our going may, perhaps, breed more debate,
And then we may too late wish we had stay'd;
And therefore, if you will be rul'd by me,
We will not go, that's flat: nay, if we love
Our credits or our quiets, let's not go.

O. ART. But if we love
Their credits or their quiets, we must go,
And reconcile them to their former love;
Where there is strife betwixt a man and wife 'tis hell,
And mutual love may be compared to heaven,
For then their souls and spirits are at peace.
Come, Master Lusam, now 'tis dinner-time;
When we have dined, the first work we will make,
Is to decide their jars for pity's sake.

O. LUS. Well fare a good heart! yet are you advis'd?
Go, said you, Master Arthur? I will run
To end these broils, that discord hath begun.

[_Exeunt_.