oise
Of clashing swords, and clattering arms below.

_Enter_ FLAVIA.

Now; what news, that you press in so rudely?

_Fla_. Madam, the worst that can be:--
Your guards upon the sudden are surprised,
Disarmed; some slain; all scattered.

_Queen_. By whom?

_Fla_. Prince Lysimantes, and Lord Philocles.

_Queen_. It cannot be; Philocles is a prisoner.

_Fla_. What my eyes saw,--

_Queen_. Pull them out; they are false spectacles.

_Ast_. O, virtue! impotent and blind as fortune!
Who would be good, or pious, if this queen,
Thy great example, suffers!

_Queen_. Peace, Asteria! accuse not virtue;
She has but given me a great occasion
Of showing what I am, when fortune leaves me.

_Ast_. Philocles to do this!

_Queen_. Ay, Philocles!--I must confess 'twas hard!--
But there's a fate in kindness,
Still to be least returned, where most 'tis given.--
Where's Candiope?

_Fla_. Philocles was whispering to her.

_Queen_. Hence, screech-owl!--Call my guards quickly there!--
Put them apart in several prisons!--
Alas! I had forgot, I have no guards,
But those which are my jailors.
Never 'till now unhappy queen!
The use of power, till lost, is seldom known;
Now, I should strike, I find my thunder gone.
[_Exeunt Queen and_ FLAV.

PHILOCLES _enters, and meets_ ASTERIA _going out_.

_Phil_. Asteria, where's the queen?

_Ast_. Ah, my lord! what have you done?
I came to seek you.

_Phil_. Is it from her you come?

_Ast_. No; but on her behalf:--Her heart's too great,
In this low ebb of fortune, to entreat.

_Phil_. Tis but a short eclipse,
Which past, a glorious day will soon ensue.--
But I would ask a favour too from you.

_Ast_. When conquerors petition, they command:
Those, that can captive queens, who can withstand?

_Phil_. She, with her happiness, might mine create;
Yet seems indulgent to her own ill fate:
But she in secret hates me, sure; for why,
If not, should she Candiope deny?

_Ast_. If you dare trust my knowledge of her mind,
She has no thoughts of you that are unkind.

_Phil_. I could my sorrows with some patience bear,
Did they proceed from any one but her:
But from the queen! whose person I adore,
By duty much, by inclination more.

_Ast_. He is inclined already; did he know,
That she loved him, how would his passion grow! [_Aside_.

_Phil_. That her fair hand with destiny combines!
Fate ne'er strikes deep, but when unkindness joins:
For, to confess the secret of my mind,
Somethin