Part 18 (1/2)

Erota:

So thou maist; There's greater action in it than in clamour, A look (if it be gracious) will begin the War, A word conclude it; then prove no Coward, Since thou hast such a friendly enemy, That teaches thee to conquer.

Antinous:

You do amaze me, Madam, I have no skill, no practice in this War, And whether you be serious, or please To make your sport on a dejected man, I cannot rightly guess; but be it as it will, It is a like unhappiness to me: My discontents bear those conditions in them, And lay me out so wretched, no designs (However truly promising a good) Can make me relish ought but a sweet-bitter Voluntary Exile.

Erota:

Why an Exile?

What comfort can there be in those Companions Which sad thoughts bring along with?

[Enter _Hyparcha_]

Hyparcha:

Madam.

[Musick.

Erota:

Whence comes this well tun'd sound?

Hyparcha:

I know not, Madam.

Erota:

Listen Wench; What ever friendly hands they are that send it,

[Song.

Let 'em play on; they are Masters of their faculty: Doth it please you, Sir?

Antinous:

According to the time.

Erota:

Go to 'em, Wench, And tell 'em, we shall thank 'em; for they have kept As good time to our disposition, as to their instruments; Unless _Antinous_ shall say he loves, There never can be sweeter accents utter'd.

[Enter _Philander_.]

Philander:

Let then the heart that did employ those hands, Receive some small share of your thanks with them, 'Tis happiness enough that you did like it; 273] A fortune unto me, that I should send it In such a lucky minute; but to obtain So gracious welcome did exceed my hopes.

Erota: