Since therein she doth evitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed hours,

Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.
Ford. Stand not amaz'd: here is no remedy.-
In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state :
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.

Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy.

What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd.

Fal. When night-dogs' run, all sorts of deer are

chas'd.

Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no farther.-Master
Fenton,

Heaven give you many, many merry days.-
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all.

To master Brook you yet shall hold your word;

For he, to-night, shall lie with mistress Ford. [Exeunt.

RA