Ar. I am truly sorry.
[Exit.
Laz. That you can lie no longer in the matter.
Oh, the Lord speed you!
Ces. O Love, if mortal anguish ever move thee,
At this last hour requite me with one smile
For all thy sorrows! let what I have suffer’d
Appease thy jealous godhead! I complain not
That you condemn my merits as too poor
For the great glory they aspire unto;