May see her execution.
Attic. Take your desire.
Leo. The blessed Heauens be thankfull to Atlanta.
Lis. And crowne her with all blessings.
Attic. Take my thanks too. And now, my Lords, proceed,
And giue your finall censure.
Exit Attic.
Cornets, a flourish.
Au. Come, Atlanta, come;
Teares fill mine eyes, and Griefe doth strike me dumbe.