Lyra.
Quick, let us hasten all! Away, away,
To burn our treasures, and our rich attire,
Which might the Romans' hands make rich indeed,
And fill to overflow their grasping greed.
[Exeunt omnes, and as Morandro departs, he takes Lyra by the arm, and detains her.
Morandro.[12]
Lyra, why so swiftly fly?
Let me now enjoy the pleasure
Which within my heart I'll treasure