An Ante-Chamber at the Danish Court.

[Enter Marques Lubeck and Mariana.]


MARIANA.
Trust me, my Lord, I am sorry for your hurt.

LUBECK.
Gramercie, Madam; but it is not great:
Only a thrust, prickt with a Rapiers point.

MARIANA.
How grew the quarrel, my Lord?

LUBECK.
Sweet Lady, for thy sake. There was this last night two
masks in one company, my self the formost. The other strangers
were: amongst the which, when the Musick began to sound the
Measures, each Masker made choice of his Lady; and one, more
forward than the rest, stept towards thee, which I perceiving,
thrust him aside, and took thee my self. But this was taken in
so ill part that at my coming out of the court gate, with
justling together, it was my chance to be thrust into the arm.
The doer thereof, because he was the original cause of the
disorder at that inconvenient time, was presently committed,
and is this morning sent for to answer the matter. And I
think here he comes.

[Here enters Sir Robert of Windsor with a Gaylor.]