n:
I love like you, and am yet much more wretched,
Than you can think yourself.

_Phil_. Weak bars they needs must be, that fortune puts
'Twixt sovereign power, and all it can desire.
When princes love, they call themselves unhappy;
Only, because the word sounds handsome in a lover's mouth;
But you can cease to be so when you please,
By making Lysimantes fortunate.

_Queen_. Were he indeed the man, you had some reason;
But 'tis another, more without my power,
And yet a subject too.

_Phil_. O, madam, say not so:
It cannot be a subject, if not he;
It were to be injurious to yourself
To make another choice.

_Queen_. Yet, Lysimantes, set by him I love,
Is more obscured, than stars too near the sun:
He has a brightness of his own,
Not borrowed of his father's, but born with him.

_Phil_. Pardon me if I say, whoe'er he be,
He has practis'd some ill arts upon you, madam;
For he, whom you describe, I see, is born
But from the lees o' the people.

_Queen_. You offend me, Philocles.
Whence had you leave to use those insolent terms,
Of him I please to love? One, I must tell you,
(Since foolishly I have gone thus far)
Whom I esteem your equal,
And far superior to prince Lysimantes;
One, who deserves to wear a crown--

_Phil_. Whirlwinds bear me hence, before I live
To that detested day!--That frown assures me
I have offended, by my over-freedom;
But yet, methinks, a heart so plain and honest,
And zealous of your glory, might hope your pardon for it.

_Queen_. I give it you; but,
When you know him better,
You'll alter your opinion; he's no ill friend of yours.

_Phil_. I well perceive,
He has supplanted me in your esteem;
But that's the least of ills this fatal wretch
Has practised--Think, for heaven's sake, madam, think,
If you have drunk no philtre.

_Queen_. Yes, he has given me a philtre;
But I have drunk it only from his eyes.

_Phil_. Hot irons thank 'em for't!
[_Softly, or turning from her_.

_Queen_. What's that you mutter?
Hence from my sight! I know not whether
I ever shall endure to see you more.

_Phil_. But hear me, madam.

_Queen_. I say, begone.--See me no more this day.--
I will not hear one word in your excuse:
Now, sir, be rude again; and give laws to your queen.
[_Exit_ PHILOCLES _bowing_.
Asteria, come hither.
Was ever boldness like to this of Philocles?
Help me to reproach him, for I resolve
Henceforth no more to love him.

_Ast_. Truth is, I wondered at your patience, m