Hip. I'd quit the rest o'the world, that I might live Alone with her; she never should be from me: We two would sit and look till our eyes ached.
Prosp. You'd soon be weary of her.
Hip. O, sir, never.
Prosp. But you'll grow old and wrinkled, as you see Me now, and then you will not care for her.
Hip. You may do what you please; but, sir, we two Can never possibly grow old.
Prosp. You must, Hippolito.
Hip. Whether we will or no, sir! who shall make us?
Prosp. Nature, which made me so.
Hip. But you have told me, that her works are various: She made you old, but she has made us young.
Prosp. Time will convince you.— Meanwhile, be sure you tread in honour's paths, That you may merit her: And that you may not Want fit occasions to employ your virtue, In this next cave there is a stranger lodged, One of your kind, young, of a noble presence, And, as he says himself, of princely birth; He is my prisoner, and in deep affliction: Visit, and comfort him; it will become you.