Stephano. I am gone, sir. Ah, I would to God my travail and pain
Might restore my master to his liberty again!
Pithias. Ah woful Pithias! sith now I am alone,
What way shall I first begin to make my moan?
What words shall I find apt for my complaint?
Damon, my friend, my joy, my life, is in peril. Of force I must now faint.
But, O music, as in joyful times[60] thy merry notes did borrow,
So now lend me thy yearnful tunes to utter my sorrow.
Here Pithias sings and the regals[61] play.
Awake, ye woful wights,