I know you false, yet in your snares I fall;
You grant me nothing, and I grant you all.

_Lyndar._ I would grant all; but I must curb my will,
Because I love to keep you jealous still.
In your suspicion I your passion find;
But I will take a time to cure your mind.

_Halyma._ O, madam, the new king is drawing near!

_Lyndar._ Haste quickly hence, lest he should find you here!

_Abdelm._ How much more wretched than I came, I go!
I more my weakness and your falsehood know;
And now must leave you with my greatest foe! [_Exit_ ABDELM.

_Lyndar._ Go!--How I love thee heaven can only tell:
And yet I love thee, for a subject, well.--
Yet whatsoever charms a crown can bring,
A subject's greater than a little king.
I will attend till time this throne secure;
And, when I climb, my footing shall be sure.-- [_Music without._
Music! and, I believe, addressed to me.

SONG.

I.

_Wherever I am, and whatever I do,
My Phyllis is still in my mind;