Dio. O Mother, thank ye, thank ye, this was your will.
Del. You shall not want delights to bless your presence.
Now ye are honest, all the Stars shall honour ye.
Enter Shepherds and dancers.
Stay, here are Country-shepherds; here is some sport too,
And you must grace it, Sir; 'twas meant to welcom ye;
A King shall never feel your joy. Sit down Son.
A dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses; Pan leading the men, Ceres the maids.
Hold, hold, my Messenger appears: leave off, friends,
Leave off a while, and breathe.
Dio. What news? ye are pale, Mother.
Del. No, I am careful of thy safety, Son,
Be not affrighted, but sit still; I am with thee.
Enter Maximinian, Aurelia, Souldiers.
And now dance out your dance. Do you know that person?
Be not amaz'd, but let him shew his dreadfullest.