I know they will deny me gracious Madam,
  Being a stranger, and so little fam’d,
  So utter empty of those excellencies
  That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady,
  All these are natural; beside, a power
  Deriv’d immediate from your Royal brother,
  Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.

Pan.

  More than my word Spaconia, you shall carry,
  For fear it fail you.

Spa.

  Dare you trust a Token? 
  Madam I fear I am grown too bold a begger.

Pan.

  You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady
  It joyes me, I shall do a good to you,
  Though to my self I never shall be happy: 
  Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token
  Deliver it; I think they will not stay you: 
  So all your own desires go with you Lady.

Spa.

  And sweet peace to your Grace.

Pan.

  Pray Heaven I find it.

[Exeunt.

Enter Tigranes, in prison.

Tigr.

  Fool that I am, I have undone my self,
  And with my own hand turn’d my fortune round,
  That was a fair one:  I have childishly
  Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it,
  And now too late I mourn for’t; O Spaconia! 
  Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now,
  Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow,
  To wither my desires?  But wretched fool,
  Why did I plant thee ’twixt the Sun and me,
  To make me freeze thus?  Why did I prefer her
  To the fair Princess?  O thou fool, thou fool,
  Thou family of fools, live like a slave still,
  And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment,
  Thou hast deserv’d:  Couldst thou find no Lady
  But she that has thy hopes to put her to,
  And hazard all thy peace?  None to abuse,
  But she that lov’d thee ever? poor Spaconia,
  And so much lov’d thee, that in honesty
  And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues: 
  She that forgot the greatness of her grief
  And miseries, that must follow such mad passions,
  Endless and wild as women; she that for thee
  And with thee left her liberty, her name,
  And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens,
  And sent my own rod to correct me with;
  A woman:  for inconstancy I’le suffer,
  Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me
  For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting
  Upon a new face:  after all my oaths
  Many and strange ones,
  I feel my old fire flame again and burn
  So strong and violent, that should I see her
  Again, the grief and that would kill me.

Enter Bacurius And Spaconia.

Bac.

  Lady, your token I acknowledge, you may pass;
  There is the King.

Spa.

  I thank your Lordship for it.