Cynth. Heave up thy drowsy head again, and see
A greater light, a greater majesty,
Between our set and us! Whip up thy team!
The day-break’s here, and yon sun-flaring beam
Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou go?

Night. I’ll vanish into mists.

Cynth. I into day.

[Exeunt.

THE MASQUE ENDS.

King. Take lights there!—Ladies, get the bride to bed.—
We will not see you laid. Good-night, Amintor;
We’ll ease you of that tedious ceremony.
Were it my case, I should think time run slow.
If thou be’st noble, youth, get me a boy,
That may defend my kingdom from my foes.

Amin. All happiness to you.

King. Good night, Melantius.

[Exeunt.