Alcip. Oh, when you name the Princess and Philander,
Such different Passions do at once possess me,
As sink my over-laden Soul to Hell.
—Alas, why do I live? ‘tis losing time;
For what is Death, a pain that’s sooner ended
Than what I felt from every frown of hers?
—It was but now that lovely thing had Life,
Could speak and weep, and had a thousand Charms,
That had oblig’d a Murder, and Madness’t self
To’ve been her tame Adorers.
Yet now should even her best belov’d, the Prince,
With all his Youth, his Beauties and Desires,
Fall at her Feet, and tell his tale of Love,
She hardly would return his amorous Smiles,
Or pay his meeting Kisses back again;
Is not that fine, Pisaro?
Pis. Sir, ‘tis no time to talk in, come with me, For here’s no safety for a Murderer.
Alcip. I will not go, alas I seek no Safety.
Pis. I will not now dispute that vain reply, But force you to security.
[Pisaro draws him out, the Scene closes.
SCENE VII. The Palace.
Enter Philander, Alcander, Galatea, Aminta, and Falatius.
Fal. Ah, fly, Sir, fly from what I have to tell you.
Alcan. What’s the news?
Fal. Ah, Sir, the dismal’st heavy news that e’er was told or heard.