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.