Laz. (aside). Here are you, be sure,
When aught is stirring.
Ar. How speeds Love with you?
Laz. (aside). The lighter, sir, now you are left behind.
Ces. Arias, my friend! All’s lost!
The love I grew deep in my heart of hearts
Is wither’d at the moment of its blossom.
I went to Felix, ask’d his sister’s hand:
It was betroth’d, he told me, to another:
I was too late. All’s lost! It were in vain