adam:
Did you not mark his words, his mein, his action,
How full of haughtiness, how small respect?

_Queen_. And he to use me thus, he whom I favoured,
Nay more, he whom I loved?

_Ast_. A man, methinks, of vulgar parts and presence!

_Queen_. Or, allow him something handsome, valiant,
Or so--Yet this to me!--

_Ast_. The workmanship of inconsiderate favour,
The creature of rash love; one of those meteors
Which monarchs raise from earth,
And people, wondering how they came so high,
Fear, from their influence, plagues, and wars, and famine.

_Queen_. Ha!

_Ast_. One, whom, instead of banishing a day,
You should have plumed of all his borrowed honours,
And let him see what abject things they are,
Whom princes often love without desert.

_Queen_. What has my Philocles deserved from thee,
That thou shouldst use him thus?
Were he the basest of mankind, thou couldst not
Have given him ruder language.

_Ast_. Did not your majesty command me?
Did not yourself begin?

_Queen_. I grant I did, but I have right to do it:
I love him, and may rail; in you 'tis malice;
Malice in the most high degree; for never man
Was more deserving than my Philocles.
Or, do you love him, ha! and plead that title?
Confess, and I'll forgive you--
For none can look on him, but needs must love.

_Ast_. I love him, madam! I beseech your majesty,
Have better thoughts of me.

_Queen_. Dost thou not love him then?
Good heaven, how stupid, and how dull is she?
How most invincibly insensible!
No woman does deserve to live,
That loves not Philocles.

_Ast_. Dear madam, recollect yourself; alas!
How much distracted are your thoughts; and how
Disjointed all your words!
The sibyl's leaves more orderly were laid.
Where is that harmony of mind, that prudence,
Which guided all you did? that sense of glory,
Which raised you high above the rest of kings,
As kings are o'er the level of mankind?

_Queen_. Gone, gone, Asteria; all is gone,
Or lost within me, far from any use.
Sometimes I struggle, like the sun in clouds,
But straight I am o'ercast.

_Ast_. I grieve to see it.

_Queen_. Then thou hast yet the goodness
To pardon what I said?
Alas! I use myself much worse than thee.
Love rages in great souls,
For there his power most opposition finds;
High trees are shook, because they dare the winds.
[_Exeunt_.

ACT III.

SCENE I.--_The Court Gallery_.

PHILOCLES _solus_.

'Tis true, she banished me but for a day;
But favo