Second Lord

He well may be a stranger, for he comes
To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished.

Third Lord

And on set purpose let his armour rust
Until this day, to scour it in the dust.

SIMONIDES

Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan
The outward habit by the inward man.
But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw
Into the gallery.

Exeunt

Great shouts within and all cry 'The mean knight!'