The Prince Asander, heir of Bosphorus,

Touches our shores to-day, and presently

Will be with us.

Gycia.

Oh, father, is it wise?

Do fire and water mingle? Does the hawk

Mate with the dove; the tiger with the lamb;

The tyrant with the peaceful commonwealth;

Fair commerce with the unfruitful works of war?

What union can there be 'twixt our fair city

And this half-barbarous race? 'Twere against nature

To bid these opposite elements combine—

The Greek with the Cimmerian. Father, pray you,

Send them away, with honour if you please,

And soothing words and gifts—only, I pray you,

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Send them away, this Prince who doth despise us,

And his false retinue of slaves.

Lama.

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