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And quite divorce his memory from his Part.
Prin. Therefore I do it ; and I make no doubt,' The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out. There's no such Sport, as Sport by Sport o'erthrown ; To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; So shall we stay, mocking intended game; And they, well mockt, depart away with shame. Sound. Boyet. The trumpet sounds; be maskt, the maskers
come. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, disguis'd like Moscovites; Moth with
Mufick, as for a masquerade.
Moth. A holy parcel of the faireft dames,
The ladies turn their backs to him. Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views.