Pan.
You are welcome, Sir,
I think, but if you be not, 'tis past me
To make you so: for I am here a stranger,
Greater than you; we know from whence you come,
But I appear a lost thing, and by whom
Is yet uncertain, found here i'th' Court,
And onely suffer'd to walk up and down,
As one not worth the owning.
Spa.
O, I fear
Tigranes will be caught, he looks, me-thinks,
As he would change his eyes with her; some help
There is above for me, I hope.
Tigr.
Why do you turn away, and weep so fast,
And utter things that mis-become your looks,
Can you want owning?
Spa.
O 'tis certain so.
Tigr.
Acknowledge your self mine.