[157] Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask.
Enter Blackamoors with music; Moth; the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in Russian habits, and masked.
Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—
[159] Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.
[160] Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames [The Ladies turn their backs to him.
That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views!
Biron. [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
[163] Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!—
Out—
[164] Boyet. True; out indeed.