Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She [excels] each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.
[Host.] How now! [are you sadder than you were before]? How do you, man? the music likes you not.
55 Jul. You mistake; the musician likes me not.
Host. Why, my pretty youth?
Jul. He plays false, father.
Host. How? out of tune on the strings?