Lady Joan:
Praise, my lord, should keep a measure; sweets are quick to surfeit.
Lacy:
Lady, if I cannot win your favour, I am like to die of grief.
Lady Joan:
Live, my lord, live, and now if it please you let us join the dancers. [They turn off together; the dancing goes on with directions changing the galliard to the Coranto.]
Miss Fitton:
[Looking after Lacy.] A curious jay.
Herbert:
A soldier, scholar, traveller, all masked with this extravagance.