Bia. Where lovers watch
The dial, that's an age.
Pha. Oh, so!
Bia. [To Phania] Do I
Not know?
Syb. An age? Ay, love grows old and fades in 't.
Bia. A thousand moons in journey o'er my love
Would leave 't no withered hour! By the fair soul
Of one who knows me true!
Syb. That is no woman.
Pha. A pretty oath!
Syb. But not a new one, dear.
Bia. Plead, Phania, dove! Let her not chide
Poor penitence on knee. In two days' time
I sail to war, yet stony Sybaris
Would break love's wings with doubt—put me aboard
With sighs to sink my ship——
Pha. Nay, Sybaris!
I'll vow him constant now.