Ard. We'l shew ye all the Court too.
Luci. Shew me him,
And ye have shew'd me all I come to look on.
Phor. Come on, we'l be your guides, and as ye goe,
We have some pretty tales to tell ye Lady,
Shall make ye merry too; ye come not here,
To be a sad Lucina.
Luci. Would I might not.— [Exeunt.
Enter Chilax, and Balbus.
Chil. Now the soft Musick; Balbus run—
Bal. I flye Boy— [Exit Balbus.
Chil. The women by this time are worming of her,—
If she can hold out them, the Emperour [Musick.
Takes her to task: he has her; hark the Musick.
Enter Emperour, and Lucina.
Luci. Good your Grace,
Where are my women Sir?