A song while the Squires descend with the bough
toward the Scene.

      Goe, happy man, like th'Euening Starre,
      Whose beames to Bride-groomes well-come are :
      May neither Hagge nor feind withstand
      The powre of thy Victorious Hand.
            The Vncharm'd Knights surrender now,
            By vertue of thy raised Bough.

      Away, Enchauntments, Vanish quite,
      No more delay our longing sight :
      ' Tis fruitelesse to contend with Fate,
      Who giues vs pow're against your hate.
            Braue Knights, in Courtly pompe appeare
            For now are you long-look't for heere.