CUP. They are in her court, Mercury, but not as stars; these never
come in the presence of Cynthia. The nymphs that make her train
are the divine Arete, Time, Phronesis, Thauma, and others of that
high sort. These are privately brought in by Moria in this
licentious time, against her knowledge; and, like so many meteors,
will vanish when she appears.

ENTER PROSAITES SINGING, FOLLOWED BY GELAIA AND COS, WITH BOTTLES.

Come follow me, my wags, and say, as I say,
There's no riches but in rags, hey day, hey day:
You that profess this art, come away, come away,
And help to bear a part. Hey day, hey day, etc.

[MERCURY AND CUPID COME FORWARD.]

MER. What, those that were our fellow pages but now, so soon
preferr'd to be yeomen of the bottles! The mystery, the mystery,
good wags?

CUP. Some diet-drink they have the guard of.

PRO. No, sir, we are going in quest of a strange fountain, lately
found out.

CUP. By whom?

COS. My master or the great discoverer, Amorphus.