_Prosp._ True, he has seen a woman, yet he lives!-- Perhaps I took the moment of his birth Amiss: Perhaps my art itself is false.-- On what strange grounds we build our hopes and fears! Man's life is all a mist! and, in the dark, Our fortunes meet us. If fate be not, then what can we foresee? Or how can we avoid it, if it be? If by free will in our own paths we move, How are we bounded by decrees above? Whether we drive, or whether we are driven, If ill, 'tis ours: if good, the act of heaven. [_Exit._ SCENE VI.--_A Cave_. _Enter_ HIPPOLITO _and_ FERDINAND. _Ferd._ Your pity, noble youth, doth much oblige me. Indeed, 'twas sad to lose a father so. _Hip._ Ay, and an only father too; for sure You said, you had but one. _Ferd._ But one father! He's wondrous simple. [_Aside._ _Hip._ Are such misfortunes frequent in your world, Where many men live? _Ferd._ Such are we born to.-- But, gentle youth, as you have questioned me, So give me leave to ask you, what you are? _Hip._ Do not you know? _Ferd._ How should I? _Hip._ I well hoped I was a man, but, by your ignorance Of what I am, I fear it is not so.-- Well, Prospero! this is now the second time You have deceived me. _Ferd._ Sir, there is no doubt You are a man: But I would know, of whence? _Hip._ Why, of this world; I never was in yours. _Ferd._ Have you a father? _Hip._ I was told I had one, And that he was a man; yet I have been So much deceived, I dare not tell't you for A truth: But I have still been kept a prisoner, For fear of women. _Ferd._ They, indeed, are dangerous; For, since I came, I have beheld one here, Whose beauty pierced my heart. _Hip._ How did she pierce? You seem not hurt. _Ferd._ Alas! the wound was made by her bright eyes, And festers by her absence. But, to speak plainer to you, sir, I love her. _Hip._ Now, I suspect that love's the very thing, That I feel too!--Pray tell me truly, sir, Are you not grown unquiet since you saw her? _Ferd._ I take no rest. _Hip._ Just, just, my disease.-- Do you not wish, you do not know for what? _Ferd._ O, no! I know too well for what I wish. _Hip._ There, I confess, I differ from you, sir: But you desire she may be always with you? _Ferd._ I can have no felicity without her. _Hip._ Just my condition.--Alas, gentle sir! I'll pity you, and you shall pity me. _Ferd._ I love so much, that, if I have her not, I find I cannot live. _Hip._ How! do you love her, And would you have her too? That must not be: For none but I must have her. _Ferd._ But perhaps we do not love the same: All beauties are not pleasing alike to all. _Hip._ Why, are there more fair women, sir, Besides that one I love?