Phi. Slave, take what thou deservest.
Are. Heavens guard my Lord.
Coun. Oh do you breath?
Phi. I hear the tread of people: I am hurt.
The gods take part against me, could this Boor
Have held me thus else? I must shift for life,
Though I do loath it. I would find a course,
To lose it, rather by my will than force.
[Exit Phil.
Coun. I cannot follow the Rogue. I pray thee wench come and kiss me now.
Enter Phara. Dion, Cle. Thra. and Woodmen.
Pha. What art thou?
Coun. Almost kil'd I am for a foolish woman; a knave
has hurt her.
Pha. The Princess Gentlemen! Where's the wound Madam?
Is it dangerous?