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SIMONIDES. Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune, And will awake him from his melancholy. Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, And waste the time, which looks for other revels. Even in your armours, as you are address’d, Will well become a soldier’s dance. I will not have excuse, with saying this, ‘Loud music is too harsh for ladies’ heads’ Since they love men in arms as well as beds.