Hip. My dear, go quickly, lest you come too late. [Exit Dor.
Enter Miranda at the other door, with Hippolito's sword wrapt up.
Hip. Who's this, who looks so fair and beautiful, As nothing but Dorinda can surpass her? O! I believe it is that angel woman, Whom she calls sister.
Mir. Sir, I am sent hither To dress your wound; how do you find your strength?
Hip. Fair creature, I am faint with loss of blood.
Mir. I am sorry for it.
Hip. Indeed, and so am I, For if I had that blood, I then should find A great delight in loving you.
Mir. But, sir, I am another's, and your love is given Already to my sister.
Hip. Yet I find, That, if you please, I can love still a little.
Mir. I cannot be inconstant, nor should you.