By one that Antioch dreams little of.
But it grows late: and if we spoke till dawn,
I have no more to say.
Cipr. Nor more will hear?
Just. Alas, sir, to what purpose? When, all said,
Said too as you have said it—
And I have but the same hard answer still;
Unless to thank you once and once again,
And charge you with my thankless errand back,
But in such better terms,