All. Wee’ll sit with you sweet Sir Vaughan.
Sir Vau. God a mightie plesse your faces, and make your peauties last, when wee are all dead and rotten:—you all will come.
1 Lady. All will come.
Sir Vau. Pray God that Horace bee in his right wittes to raile now.
Exit.
Cris. Come Ladie, you shall be my dauncing guest
To treade the maze of musicke with the rest.
Dem. Ile lead you in.
Dicach. A maze is like a doubt:
Tis easie to goe in, hard to get out.
Blun. We follow close behinde.
Philoca. That measure’s best.
Now none markes vs, but we marke all the rest.