_Cle._ Let me go, I am asham'd to own thee.
_Si._ Fare ye well then, Ye must ne're see me more.
_Cle._ Why stay dear _Siphax_, My anger's past; I will hear ye speak.
_Si._ My destruction. In at mine eyes I have drunk it; O the Princess, The rare sweet Princess!
_Cle._ How fool? the rare Princess? Was it the Princess that thou said'st?
_Cle._ Thou dost not love her sure, thou darst not.
_Cle._ Yes by Heaven? I know thou darst not. The Princess? 'tis thy life the knowledge of it, Presumption that will draw into it all thy kindred, And leave 'em slaves and succourless; the Princess? Why she's a sacred thing to see and worship, Fixt from us as the Sun is, high, and glorious, To be ador'd not doted on; desire things possible, Thou foolish young man, nourish not a hope Will hale thy heart out.
_Si._ 'Tis my destinie, And I know both disgrace and death will quit it, If it be known.
_Cle._ Pursue it not then, _Siphax_, Get thee good wholesome thoughts may nourish thee, Go home and pray.
_Cle._ Sleep then, _Siphax_, And dream away thy doting.
_Si._ I must have her, Or you no more your Brother; work _Cleanthe_, Work, and work speedily, or I shall die Wench.
_Si._ Farewel Sister. Farewel for ever, see me buried.
_Cle._ Stay. Pray stay: he's all my brothers: no way _Siphax_, No other Woman?
_Cle._ Go and hope well, my life I'le venture for thee And all my art, a Woman may work miracles; No more, pray heartily against my fortunes, For much I fear a main one.
_Enter a Priestess of_ Venus _and a Boy_.
_Pri._ Find him by any means; and good child tell him He has forgot his old friend, give him this, And say this night without excuse or business, As ever he may find a friend, come to me, He knows the way and how, begon.
_Pri._ The fair _Cleanthe_, What may your business be?
_Cle._ O holy Mother Such business, of such strange weight, now or never. As ye have loved me, as ye do or may do, When I shall find a fit time.
_Pri._ If by my means Your business may be fitted; ye know me, And how I am tyed unto you; be bold Daughter To build your best hopes.
_Cle._ O but 'tis a strange one, Stuck with as many dangers--
_Pri._ There's the working, Small things perform themselves and give no pleasures; Be confident, through death I'le serve.