CAS. Sorrow must doff her sable weeds, and joy Furbish the Court with fresh and verdant colours; Else should we seem ungrateful to the gods. Triumphs must thrust out obsequies; and tilt With tourney, and our ancient sport call'd Troy, Such as Iulus 'bout his grandsire's tomb Did represent; and at each temple's porch, Games, songs, and holy murdering of beasts. [_They sit down._ _A dancing masque of six enters, then the epinicion[316]_ _sung by two bards._ _The Roman eagle, threatening woe,_ _The sea did shadow with her wing;_ _But our goose-quills did prick her so_ _That from the clouds they down her bring._ BOTH. _Sing then_, _ye hills and dales so-so clear,_ _That Iö Pæan all may hear._ _They may us call isles fortunate;_ _They sought for life here, not for fame._ _All yield to them, they to our state:_ _The world knows but our double name._ BOTH. _Sing then, ye streams and woods so-so clear,_ _That Iö Pæan all may hear._ ANDROGEUS _and_ TENANTIUS _play at foils, then_ HIRILDAS _and_ EULINUS _play_. EUL. 'Twas foully play'd. HIR. You lie, 'twas fairly hit. EUL. I'll give a quittance. HIR. Do your worst, vain braggart. [_They take swords, fight_, HIRILDAS _slain_. O, I'm slain. CAS. Hold, hold! my nephew's slain before my face. Life shall be paid with life. AND. He shall not die. CAS. Shall not? your king and uncle says he shall. EUL. No kingly menace or censorious frown Do I regard. Tanti[317] for all your power! But the compunction of my guilt doth send A shudd'ring chilness through my veins inflam'd. Why do ye stare, ye grisly powers of night? There, there his soul goes: I must follow him. [_Offers to kill himself: is hindered._ AND. He was provok'd, and did it in defence: And, being my kinsman, shall be judg'd by laws Of Troynovant: such custom claims our court. CAS. No custom shall bar justice. I command That he appear before us. AND. Trials are vain when passion sits as judge. CAS. I'll soon rebate this insolent disdain. [_Exeunt_ ANDROGEUS, TENANTIUS, _and_ EULINUS. Let not this dismal chance deface our joy, Most royal friends. CRI. War being silenced, and envy's rage In hell fast fetter'd, sound we now retreat, That soldiers may regreet their household gods; Their children cling about their armed thighs.