Oh Mysis, Mysis! even at this hour,
Mysis. I only know
That she deserves you should remember her.
Pam. I should remember her? Oh, Mysis, Mysis!
The words of Chrysis touching my Glycerium
Are written in my heart. On her death-bed
She call’d me. I approach’d her. You retir’d.
We were alone; and Chrysis thus began:
“My Pamphilus, you see the youth and beauty
Of this unhappy maid: and well you know,