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Upon the next occasion that we meet,

With visages display’d, to talk and greet.

Ros.

But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t?

Prin.

No, to the death we will not move a foot,

Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace,

But while ’tis spoke each turn away [her] face.

Boyet.

Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,

And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Prin.

Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt

The rest will [ne’er] come in, if he be out.

There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown,

To make theirs ours and ours none but our own;

So shall we stay, mocking intended game,

And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame.

Sound trumpet [within].

Boyet.

The trumpet sounds, be mask’d; the maskers come.

[The Ladies mask.]

Enter Blackmoors with music, the Boy [Moth] with a speech, [the King] and the rest of the Lords disguised [as Russians].

Moth.

“All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!”—

[Boyet.]

Beauties no richer than rich taffata.

Moth.

“A holy parcel of the fairest dames