Abi. Tie this ring fast, you may be sure to know.
You’ll brag of this, now you have brought me to the bay.
Rog. Pox o’ this masque! would ’twere done! I might
To my apothecary’s for some stirring meats! 141
Tha. Methinks, sir, you should blush e’en through your vizor.
I have scarce patience to dance out the rest.
Clar.[199] The worse my fate, that ploughs a marble quarry:
Pygmalion, yet thy image was more kind,
Although thy love[200] not half so true as mine.
Dance they that list, I sail against the wind.
Tha. Nay, sir, betray not your infirmities,
You’ll make my husband jealous by and by.
We will think of you, and that presently. 150
Mass.[201] The spheres ne’er danced unto a better tune.
Sound music there!
[The third change ended, ladies fall off.
Isa. ’Twas music that he spake.
Rob. Gallants, I thank you, and begin a health
To your mistresses!
Three or four. Fair thanks, Sir Bridegroom.