Zab. Strike Musick And sing that lusty Song. [Musick. Song.
Ar. Bewitching harmony! Sure I am turn'd into another Creature.
Enter Hippolyta.
Happy and blest, Arnoldo was unfortunate;
Ha! bless mine eyes; what pretious piece of nature
To pose the world?
Zab. I told you, you would see that Would darken these poor preparations; What think ye now? nay rise not, 'tis no vision.
Ar. 'Tis more: 'tis miracle.
Hip. You are welcom Sir.
Ar. It speaks, and entertains me still more glorious; She is warm, and this is flesh here: how she stirs me! Bless me what stars are there?
Hip. May I sit near ye?
Ar. No, you are too pure an object to behold, Too excellent to look upon, and live; I must remove.