gn:
No motive but her glory could have wrought me.
I am a traitor to her, to preserve her
From treason to herself: Yet heaven knows,
With what a heavy heart
Philocles turns reformer. But have care
This fault of her strange passion take no air.
Let not the vulgar blow upon her fame.

_Lys_. I will be careful:--Shall we go, my lord?

_Phil_. Time wastes apace; each first prepare his men.--
Come, my Candiope. [_Exeunt_ PHIL. _and_ CAND.

_Lys_. This ruins him forever with the queen;
The odium's half his, the profit all my own.
Those who, like me, by others' help would climb,
To make them sure, must dip them in their crime. [_Exit_.

SCENE II.--_The Queen's apartments_.

_Enter Queen and_ ASTERIA.

_Queen_. No more news yet from Philocles?

_Ast_. None, madam, since Flavia's return.

_Queen_. O, my Asteria! if you loved me, sure
You would say something to me of my Philocles!
I could speak ever of him.

_Ast_. Madam, you commanded me no more to name him to you.

_Queen_. Then I command you now, speak of nothing else:--
I charge you here, on your allegiance, tell me
What I should do with him?

_Ast_. When you gave orders that he should be taken,
You seemed resolved how to dispose of him.

_Queen_. Dull Asteria! not to know,
Mad people never think the same thing twice!--
Alas! I'm hurried restless up and down:--
I was in anger once, and then I thought
I had put into shore:
But now a gust of love blows hard against me,
And bears me off again.

_Ast_. Shall I sing the song, you made of Philocles,
And called it _Secret Love_?

_Queen_. Do; for that's all kindness. And while thou singest it,
I can think nothing but what pleases me.

SONG.

_I feed a flame within, which so torments me,
That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love if,
That I had rather die, than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel:
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me:
To be more happy, I dare not aspire;
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher_.

_Queen_. Peace!--Methinks I hear the n