Are. They are jealous of him.
Phi. Jealous, who?
Are. The King.
Phi. Oh, my fortune,
Then 'tis no idle jealousie. Let him go.
Are. Oh cruel, are you hard hearted too?
Who shall now tell you, how much I lov'd you;
Who shall swear it to you, and weep the tears I send?
Who shall now bring you Letters, Rings, Bracelets,
Lose his health in service? wake tedious nights
In stories of your praise? Who shall sing
Your crying Elegies? And strike a sad soul
Into senseless Pictures, and make them mourn?
Who shall take up his Lute, and touch it, till
He crown a silent sleep upon my eye-lid,
Making me dream and cry, Oh my dear, dear Philaster.
Phi. Oh my heart!
Would he had broken thee, that made thee know
This Lady was not Loyal. Mistress, forget
The boy, I'le get thee a far better.
Are. Oh never, never such a boy again, as my Bellario.
Phi. 'Tis but your fond affection.
Are. With thee my boy, farewel for ever,
All secrecy in servants: farewel faith,
And all desire to do well for it self:
Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs,
Sell and betray chast love.
Phi. And all this passion for a boy?