Volume 2 / Act 4 — 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 noise 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, Something so tender for the queen I find, That even Candiope can scarce remove, And, were she lower, I should call it love.

Ast. She charged me, not this secret to betray; But I best serve her, if I disobey. For, if he loves, 'twas for her interest done; If not, he'll keep it secret for his own. [Aside.

Phil. Why are you in obliging me so slow?

Ast. The thing's of great importance, you would know; And you must first swear secresy to all.

Phil. I swear.

Ast. Yet hold; your oath's too general: Swear that Candiope shall never know.

Phil. I swear.

Ast. No; not the queen herself.

Phil. I vow.

Ast. You wonder why I am so cautious grown, In telling what concerns yourself alone: But spare my vow, and guess what it may be, That makes the queen deny Candiope: 'Tis neither heat, nor pride, that moves her mind; Methinks the riddle is not hard to find.

Phil. You seem so great a wonder to intend, As were, in me, a crime to apprehend.

Ast. 'Tis not a crime to know; but would be one, To prove ungrateful when your duty's known.

Phil. Why would you thus my easy faith abuse: I cannot think the queen so ill would chuse. But stay, now your imposture will appear; She has herself confessed she loved elsewhere: On some ignoble choice has placed her heart, One, who wants quality, and more, desert.

Ast. This, though unjust, you have most right to say; For, if you'll rail against yourself, you may.

Phil. Dull that I was! A thousand things now crowd my memory. That make me know it could be none but I. Her rage was love; and its tempestuous flame, Like lightning, showed the heaven from whence it came. But in her kindness my own shame I see; Have I dethroned her, then for loving me? I hate myself for that which I have done, Much more, discovered, than I did unknown. How does she brook her strange imprisonment?

Ast. As great souls should, that make their own content. The hardest term, she for your act could find, Was only this, O Philocles, unkind! Then, setting free a sigh, from her fair eyes She wiped two pearls, the remnant of wild showers, Which hung like drops upon the bells of flowers: And thanked the heavens, Which better did, what she designed, pursue, Without her crime, to give her power to you.

Phil. Hold, hold! you set my thoughts so near a crown, They mount above my reach, to pull them down: Here constancy, ambition there does move; On each side beauty, and on both sides love.

Ast. Methinks the least you can, is to receive This love with reverence, and your former leave.

Phil. Think but what difficulties come between!

Ast. 'Tis wondrous difficult to love a queen.

Phil. For pity, cease more reasons to provide, I am but too much yielding to your side; And, were my heart but at my own dispose, I should not make a scruple now to chuse.

Ast. Then if the queen will my advice approve, Her hatred to you shall expel her love.

Phil. Not to be loved by her as hard would be, As to be hated by Candiope.

Ast. I leave you to resolve while you have time; You must be guilty, but may chuse your crime. [Exit ASTERIA.

Phil. One thing I have resolved; and that I'll do, Both for my love, and for my honour too; But then (ingratitude and falsehood weighed), I know not which would most my soul upbraid. Fate shoves me headlong down a rugged way; Unsafe to run, and yet too steep to stay. [Exit PHIL.