Byrr. It is even so, Sir.
Char. How do you know it?
Byrr. From Davus, whom I met just now in the Forum.
Char. Alas! the measure of my wretchedness is now full: my soul has hitherto fluctuated between my hopes and fears; but now all hope is lost, I sink wearied and care-worn into utter despair.
Byrr[109]. I beseech you, O Charinus, [110]to wish for something possible, since what you now wish for is impossible!
Char. I can wish for nothing but Philumena!
Byrr. Ah! how much wiser you would be, if instead of talking thus, which only serves to nourish [111]a hopeless passion; you would endeavour to subdue, and banish it entirely from your heart.
Char. How readily do those who are in health give good counsel to the diseased! if you were in my situation you would not talk thus.
Byrr. Well, well, as you please, Sir.
Char. But I see Pamphilus coming this way. I am resolved to attempt every thing before I am quite undone.