_King._ I neither know that Horace, nor mine anger, If as thou saist our high and princely choller Be vp, wee’l tread it downe with daunces; Ladies |820| Loose not your men; faire measures must be tread, When by so faire a dauncer you are lead.
_Min._ Perdie sir Vaughan I cannot dance.
_Vaugh._ Perdie by this Miniuer cappe, and acording to his |825| masesties leaue too, you sall be put in among theise Ladies, & daunce ere long I trest in god, the saking of the seetes.
_They daunce a straine, and whilst the others keepe on, the King and Cælestine stay._
_Kin._ That turne faire Bride shews you must turne at night, |830| In that sweet daunce which steales away delight.
_Cæl._ Then pleasure is a theife, a fit, a feauer.
_Kin._ True, he’s the thiefe, but women the receiuer.
_Another change; they fall in, the rest goe on._
_Kin._ This change sweet Maide, saies you must change your life, |835| As Virgins doe.
_Cæl._ Virgins nere change their life, She that is wiu’d a maide, is Maide and wife.
_At this third change they end, and she meetes the King._
_Cæl._ Women are ouertaken when they meete.
_Cæl._ It were good, If euery Maiden blush, had such a bloud.
|850| _Kin._ A coward bloud, why whom should maidens feare?
_Cæ._ Men, were Maides cowards, they’d not come so nere, My Lord the Measure’s done, I pleade my duetie.
_Kin._ Onelie my heart takes measure of thy beautie.
_Sir quin._ Now by my hose I sweare, that’s no deepe oath, |855| This was a fine sweet earth-quake gentlie moou’d, By the soft winde of whispring Silkes: come Ladies, Whose ioynts are made out of the dauncing Orbes, Come, follow me, walke a colde measure now; In the Brides Chamber; your hot beautie’s melt, |860| Take euerie one her fan, giue them their places, And waue the Northerne winde vpon your faces.
_Cælestine and all the Ladyes doing obeysance to the King, who onely kisses her, Exeunt, Shorthose manning them, the Gallants stand aloofe._
_Ki._ Beautie out of her bountie, thee hath lent, More then her owne with liberall extent.
_Kin._ Thy Bride, thy choice, thy wife, |870| She that is now thy fadom, thy new world, That brings thee people, and makes little subiects; Kneele at thy feete, obay in euerie thing, So euerie Father is a priuate King.