_Bust._ You may hold your peace, and stand further out o'th way then: The lines will fall where they light, Yes _Jack-an-Apes_, he hath [to sport], and faces make like mirth, Whilst bellowing buls, the horned beasts, do toss from ground to earth: Blind Bear there is, as _Cupid_ blind. _Ant._ That Bear would be whip'd for losing of his eies. _Bust._ Be whipped man may see, But we present no such content, but _Nymphs_ such as they be. _Ant._ These are long lines. _Mar._ Can you blame him, leading Buls and Bears in 'em. _Enter Shepherd singing, with_ Ismena, Aminta, Florimel, (_as_ Juno, Pallas, Venus,) _and three Nymphs attending_. _Bust._ Go _Cupid_ blind, conduct the dumb, for Ladies must not speak here: Let shepherds sing with dancing feet, and cords of musick break here. _Song._ Now Ladies fight, with heels so light, by lot your luck must fall, Where _Paris_ please, to do you ease, and give the golden Ball. [_Dance._ _Mar._ If you plaid _Paris_ now _Antonio_, where would you bestow it? _Ant._ I prethee, Friend, Take the full freedom of thought, but no words. _Mar._ 'Protest there's a third, which by her habit, Should personate _Venus_, and by consequence Of the Story, receive the honors prize: And were I a _Paris_, there it should be. Do you note her? _Ant._ No; mine eye is so fixed, I cannot move it. _Cup._ The dance is ended; Now to judgement _Paris_. _Bust._ Here _Juno_, here: but stay, I do espy A pretty gleek coming from _Pallas_ eye: Here _Pallas_, here: yet stay agen: methinks I see the eye of lovely _Venus_ winks: Oh close them both: shut in those golden eyn, And I will kiss those sweet blind cheeks of thine. _Juno_ is angry: yes, and _Pallas_ frowns, Would _Paris_ now were gone from _Ida_'s downs. They both are fair, but _Venus_ has the Mole, The fairest hair, and sweetest dimple hole: To her, or her, or her, or neither; Can one man please three Ladies altogether? No, take it _Venus_, toss it at thy pleasure, Thou art the Lovers friend beyond his measure. _Jul. Paris_ has done what man can do, pleas'd one, Who can do more? _Mar._ Stay, here's another person. _Enter_ Gerasto, (_as_ Mars.) _Ger._ Come lovely _Venus_, leave this lower Orb, And mount with _Mars_, up to his glorious Sphere. _Bust._ How now, what's he: _Flo._ I'm ignorant what to do, Sir. _Ger._ Thy silver-yoke of Doves are in the Team, And thou shalt fly through _Apollo_'s Beam: I'll see thee seated in thy golden Throne, And hold with _Mars_ a sweet conjunction. [_Exit._ _Bust._ Ha? what fellow's this? has carried away my Sister _Venus_: He never rehears'd his part with me before.