FORTUNATUS. 
A crafty knave was never so beguil’d. 
Now Sophos’ hopes have had their lucky haps,
And he enjoys the presence of his love: 
My vow’s perform’d, and I am full reveng’d
Upon this hell-bred race of cursed imps. 
Now rests nought but my father’s free consent,
To knit the knot that time can ne’er untwist,
And that, as this, I likewise will perform. 
No sooner shall Aurora’s pearled dew
O’erspread the mantled earth with silver drops,
And Phoebus bless the orient with a blush,
To chase black night to her deformed cell,
But I’ll repair unto my father’s house,
And never cease with my enticing words,
To work his will to knit this Gordian knot: 
Till when I’ll leave you to your am’rous chat. 
Dear friend, adieu; fair sister, too, farewell: 
Betake yourselves unto some secret place,
Until you hear from me how things fall out.
                            [Exit FORTUNATUS.

SOPHOS. 
We both do wish a fortunate good-night.

LELIA. 
And pray the gods to guide thy steps aright.

SOPHOS. 
Now come, fair Lelia, let’s betake ourselves
Unto a little hermitage hereby,
And there to live obscured from the world,
Till fates and fortune call us thence away,
To see the sunshine of our nuptial day. 
See how the twinkling stars do hide their borrow’d shine,
As half-asham’d their lustre is so stain’d
By Lelia’s beauteous eyes, that shine more bright
Than twinkling stars do in a winter’s night—­
In such a night did Paris win his love.

LELIA. 
In such a night Aeneas prov’d unkind.

SOPHOS. 
In such a night did Troilus court his dear.

LELIA. 
In such a night fair Phillis was betray’d.

SOPHOS. 
I’ll prove as true as ever Troilus was.

LELIA. 
And I as constant as Penelope.

SOPHOS. 
Then let us solace, and in love’s delight
And sweet embracings spend the livelong night;
And whilst love mounts her on her wanton wings,
Let descant run on music’s silver strings.

[Exeunt.

A SONG.

               1.

Old Triton must forsake his dear,
The lark doth chant her cheerful lay;
Aurora smiles with merry cheer,
To welcome in a happy day.

         2.

The beasts do skip,
The sweet birds sing;
The wood-nymphs dance,
The echoes ring.

               3.

The hollow caves with joy resounds,
And pleasure ev’rywhere abounds;
The Graces, linking hand in hand,
In love have knit a glorious band.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW, old PLOD-ALL, and his son PETER.

PLOD-ALL. 
Hear you, Master Goodfellow, how have you sped?

PETER PLOD-ALL. 
Ha’ you played the devil bravely, and feared the scholar out on’s wits?