,
And love in yours has set the value low.

_Queen_. I stand corrected, and myself reprove;
You teach me to repent my low-placed love:
Help me this passion from my heart to tear!--
Now rail on him, and I will sit and hear.

_Phil_. Madam, like you, I have repented too,
And dare not rail on one, I do not know.

_Queen_. This, Philocles, like strange perverseness shews,
As if whate'er I said you would oppose;
How come you thus concerned for this unknown?

_Phil_. I only judge his actions by my own.

_Queen_. I've heard too much, and you too much have said.
O heavens, the secret of my soul's betrayed!
He knows my love, I read it in his face,
And blushes, conscious of his queen's disgrace.
[_Aside_.
Hence quickly, hence, or I shall die with shame.
[_To him._

_Phil_. Now I love both, and both with equal flame.
Wretched I came, more wretched I retire:
When two winds blow it, who can quench the fire?
[_Exit_ PHILOCLES.

_Queen_. O my Asteria! I know not whom to accuse;
But either my own eyes, or you, have told
My love to Philocles.

_Ast_. Is't possible that he should know it, madam?

_Queen_. Methinks, you ask that question guiltily.
[_Lays her hand on_ ASTERIA'S _shoulder._
Confess, for I will know, what was the subject
Of your long discourse i'th' antichamber with him.

_Ast_. It was business to convince him, madam,
How ill he did, being so much obliged,
To join in your imprisonment.

_Queen_. Nay, now I am confirmed my thought was true;
For you could give him no such reason
Of his obligements, as my love.

_Ast_. Because I saw him much a malecontent,
I thought to win him to your interest, madam,
By telling him it was no want of kindness,
Made your refusal of Candiope.
And he, perhaps--

_Queen_. What of him now?

_Ast_. As men are apt, interpreted my words,
To all the advantage he could wrest the sense,
As if I meant you loved him.

_Queen_. Have I deposited within thy breast
The dearest treasure of my life, my glory,
And hast thou thus betrayed me!
But why do I accuse thy female weakness,
And not my own, for trusting thee!
Unhappy queen, Philocles knows thy fondness,
And needs must think it done by thy command.

_Ast_. Dear madam, think not so.

_Queen_. Peace, peace, thou should'st for ever hold thy tongue:
For it has spoke too much for all thy life. [_To her_.
Then Philocles has told Candiope,
And courts her kindness with his scorn of me.
O whither am I fallen!
But I must rous