Cleo. He is no man:
The shadow of a Greatness hangs upon him,
And not the vertue: he is no Conquerour,
H'as suffer'd under the base dross of Nature:
Poorly delivered up his power to wealth,
(The god of bed-rid men) taught his eyes treason
Against the truth of love: he has rais'd rebellion:
Defi'd his holy flames.
Eros. He will fall back again,
And satisfie your Grace.