They dance the dance, but can make nothing of it.
1st Sold. A devil! let's try this no longer. Play my dance
that Mr. Bayes found fault with so. [Dance, and Exeunt.
Smith. What can this fool be doing all this while about his
nose?
Johns. Prithee let's go see. [Exeunt.
ACT III.—Scene I.
Bayes with a paper on his nose, and the two Gentlemen.
Bayes. Now, sirs, this I do, because my fancy, in this play, is, to end every act with a dance.
Smith. Faith, that fancy is very good; but I should hardly have broke my nose for it, tho'.
Johns. That fancy I suppose is new too.