Why do you smell of amber-grise,
Of which was formed Neptune’s niece,
The Queen of Love; unless you can,
Like Sea-born Venus, love a man?
Try, put yourselves unto’t,
Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that meet,
Ambrosian hands, and silver feet.
Do promise you will do’t.”
The revels follow, which ended, the fleet is discovered, while the three cornets play.
After a little more foolish talk between the cook and the poet, the sailors of the fleet come in and dance, and the whole is concluded with a song by ten voices accompanied by the “Whole music, five lutes, three cornets”:—