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: 

      Good Prince, I thank you for’t.

Philander: 

      O Madam, pour not (too fast) joys on me,
      But sprinkle ’em so gently I may stand ’em;
      It is enough at first, you have laid aside
      Those cruel angry looks out of your eyes,
      With which (as with your lovely) you did strike
      All your Beholders in an Ecstasie.

Erota: 

      Philander, you have long profest to love me.

Philander: 

      Have I but profest it, Madam?

Erota: 

      Nay, but hear me?

Philander: 

      More attentively than to an Oracle.

Erota: 

      And I will speak more truly, if more can be;
      Nor shall my language be wrapt up in Riddles,
      But plain as truth it self; I love this Gentleman,
      Whose grief has made him so uncapable
      Of Love, he will not hear, at least not understand it. 
      I, that have lookt with scornful eyes on thee,
      And other Princes, mighty in their states,
      And in their friends as fortunate, have now pray’d,
      In a petitionary kind almost,
      This man, this well-deserving man, (that I must say)
      To look upon this beauty, yet you see
      He casts his eyes rather upon the ground,
      Than he will turn ’em this way; Philander,
      You look pale; I’ll talk no more.

Philander: 

      Pray go forward; I would be your Martyr,
      To dye thus, were immortally to live.

Erota: 

      Will you go to him then, and speak for me? 
      You have loved longer, but not ferventer,
      Know how to speak, for you have done it like
      An Orator, even for your self; then how will you for me
      Whom you profess to love above your self.

Philander: 

      The Curses of Dissemblers follow me
      Unto my Grave, and if I do not so.

Erota: 

      You may (as all men do) speak boldlier, better
      In their friends cause still, than in your own;
      But speak your utmost, yet you cannot feign,
274] I will stand by, and blush to witness it. 
      Tell him, since I beheld him, I have lost
      The happiness of this life, food, and rest;
      A quiet bosome, and the state I went with. 
      Tell him how he has humbled the proud,
      And made the living but a dead Erota. 
      Tell him withal, that she is better pleas’d
      With thinking on him, than enjoying these. 
      Tell him—­Philander, Prince; I talk in vain
      To you, you do not mark me.