By Jaso, sir, your cause is fallen sick,
Nor Athens emptying all her wits may heal it! [Exit]
Ara. My lord, a little patience——
Dion. Patience, madam!
Would words were meat for swords! I'd had his crop!
[Enter a royal messenger]
Mess. Most noble Dion, greeting from the king.
He begs you'll bring the Athenian sage to banquet,
And see some shows within the royal gardens.
Dion. More revels! More? This cracks the very glass