Ere they will sport with beauty's open face
Are as my heart that caseth up its joy
To wait thy voice.
[The day darkens to dusk. Theano looks into the garden, suddenly eager]
He's coming! No, he stops
To talk with Brentio. How close they whisper!
What is 't he gives the slave? For shame, bold eyes,
To spy upon a lord so true! What was 't
Phillistus said? No matter. It was false.