are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall, give room! And foot it, girls. [_Music plays, and they dance._] More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, On pain of death, though ne’er so mean, But banished to kill me? Banished? O Friar,