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 favourites, once declining, sink apace. 
Yet fortune, stop—­this is the likeliest place
To meet Asteria, and by her convey
My humble vows to my offended queen. 
Ha!  She comes herself; unhappy man,
Where shall I hide?—­[Is going out.

Enter Queen and ASTERIA.

Queen.  Is not that Philocles, Who makes such haste away?  Philocles, Philocles!—­

Phil.  I feared she saw me. [Coming back.

Queen.  How now, sir, am I such a bugbear, That I scare people from me?

Phil.  ’Tis true, I should more carefully have shunned
The place where you might be; as, when it thunders,
Men reverently quit the open air,
Because the angry gods are then abroad.