Brun. Thy loss carries mine with't, let that secure thee.
The vault is ready, and the door conveys to't
Falls just behind his chair, the blow once given,
Thou art unseen.
Pro. I cannot feel more than I fear, I'm sure. [Withdraws.
Brun. Be gone, and let them laugh their own destruction.
Thier. You will add unto her rage.
Theod. 'Foot, I shall burst, unless I vent my self, ha, ha, ha.
Brun. Me Sir, you never could
Have found a time to invite more willingness
In my dispose to pleasure.
Memb. Would you would please to make some other choise.
Revel. 'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me, Lady,
Should you refuse.
Memb. Your reason conquers; my Grandmothers looks
Have turn'd all air to earth in me, they sit
Upon my heart like night-charms, black and heavy.
[They Dance.