Y. ART. All your persuasions are to no effect,
Never allege her virtues nor her beauty,
My settled unkindness hath begot
A resolution to be unkind still,
My ranging pleasures love variety.

Y. LUS. O, too unkind unto so kind a wife,
Too virtueless to one so virtuous,
And too unchaste unto so chaste a matron.

Y. ART. But soft, sir, see where my two fathers are
Busily talking; let us shrink aside,
For if they see me, they are bent to chide.

[_Exeunt_ Y. ARTHUR _and_ Y. LUSAM.

O. ART. I think 'tis best to go straight to the house,
And make them friends again; what think ye, sir?

O. LUS. I think so too.

O. ART. Now I remember, too, that's not so good:
For divers reasons, I think best stay here,
And leave them to their wrangling--what think you?

O. LUS. I think so too.

O. ART. Nay, we will go, that's certain.