_In a dumb show, the procession[116] of the young duke,_ _with all his nobles; then sounding music. A_ _furnished table is brought forth; then enter the_ _duke and his nobles to the banquet. A blazing_ _star appeareth._
1ST NOBLE. Many harmonious hours and choicest pleasures Fill up the royal number of your years!
LUS. My lords, we're pleas'd to thank you, though we know 'Tis but your duty now to wish it so.
1ST NOBLE. That shine makes us all happy.
LUS. That foul incontinent duchess we have banish'd; The bastard shall not live. After these revels, I'll begin strange ones: he and the step-sons Shall pay their lives for the first subsidies; We must not frown so soon, else't had been now.
1ST NOBLE. My gracious lord, please you prepare for pleasure. The masque is not far off.
LUS. We are for pleasure. Beshrew thee, what art thou'? [thou] mad'st me start! Thou hast committed treason. A blazing star!
1ST NOBLE. A blazing star! O, where, my lord?
2D NOBLE. See, see, my lords, a wondrous dreadful one!
LUS. I am not pleas'd at that ill-knotted fire, That bushing, flaring star. Am not I duke? It should not quake me now. Had it appear'd Before, I might then have justly fear'd; But yet they say, whom art and learning weds, When stars wear locks, they threaten great men's heads: Is it so? you are read, my lords.
1ST NOBLE. May it please your grace, It shows great anger.
2D NOBLE. Yet here's the comfort, my lord: many times, When it seems most near, it threatens farthest off.
1ST NOBLE. Beside, my lord, You're gracefully establish'd with the loves Of all your subjects; and for natural death, I hope it will be threescore years a-coming.
LUS. Do you?[117] no more but threescore years?
3D NOBLE. But 'tis my hope, my lord, you shall ne'er die.
LUS. Give me thy hand; these others I rebuke: He that hopes so is fittest for a duke: Thou shalt sit next me; take your places, lords; We're ready now for sports; let 'em set on: You thing! we shall forget you quite anon!
_Enter the masque of Revengers, the two brothers, and_ _two Lords more._
[_The Revengers' dance: at the end steal out their_ _swords, and these four kill the four at the_ _table, in their chairs. It thunders._
VEN. Mark, thunder! Dost know thy cue, thou big-voic'd crier? Dukes' groans are thunder's watchwords.
