A mighty sum, but taken on content,
To save the tedious telling o'er and o'er.
Vict. Oh, we are too long together.
Alph. Fear you that?
Vict. I ought to fear it, but I trust my virtue.
Depart, my soul,—I will not ask you whither,
For fear I should repent of my repentance,
And follow you to death.
Alph. I go, Victoria,
For love's cold fit of jealousy returns.