I:3:34 ALAR.
But alas!
What have I won?

I:3:35 SOL.
A country and a wife.

I:3:36 ALAR.
A wife!

I:3:37 SOL.
A wife, and very fair, they say.
She should be fair, who could induce thee break
Such vows as thine. O! I am very weak.
Why came I here? Was it indeed to see
If thou could'st look on me?

I:3:38 ALAR.
My own Solisa.

I:3:39 SOL.
Call me not thine; why, what am I to thee
That thou should'st call me thine?

I:3:40 ALAR.
Indeed, sweet lady,
Thou lookest on a man as bruised in spirit,
As broken-hearted, and subdued in soul,
As any breathing wretch that deems the day
Can bring no darker morrow. Pity me!