And none but tearless triumphs. Let us on.

Enter Pania.

Pan. May the King live for ever!

Sar.‍Not an hour

Longer than he can love. How my soul hates

This language, which makes life itself a lie,

Flattering dust with eternity.[] Well, Pania!

Be brief.

Pan.‍I am charged by Salemenes to

Reiterate his prayer unto the King,