Till they [reveal] the causers of our smarts,
Which forc'd their hands divide united hearts.
Come, Katharine;<98> our losses equal are;
Then of true grief let us take equal share.
[Exeunt with the bodies.]

Enter ITHAMORE.<99>

ITHAMORE. Why, was there ever seen such villany,
So neatly plotted, and so well perform'd?
Both held in hand,<100> and flatly both beguil'd?

Enter ABIGAIL.

ABIGAIL. Why, how now, Ithamore! why laugh'st thou so?

ITHAMORE. O mistress! ha, ha, ha!

ABIGAIL. Why, what ail'st thou?

ITHAMORE. O, my master!

ABIGAIL. Ha!

ITHAMORE. O mistress, I have the bravest, gravest, secret,
subtle, bottle-nosed<101> knave to my master, that ever
gentleman had!

ABIGAIL. Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus?