Your noble name from eating age) do I There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom 150 But through the travels of my life I'll find it, (Dear in the choice of him whose name and lustre Your servant; you shall make him yours, for whom Thra. Miraculous! Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but a large inventory of his own commendations. Dion. I wonder what's his price; for certainly He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape. Enter Philaster. Than the large speaker of them. 170 Let me be swallowed quick, if I can find, Unless it be of trifles, in my poor judgment. Phi. [kneeling.] Right noble sir, as low as my obedi ence, And with a heart as loyal as my knee, I beg your favour. King. Rise; you have it, sir. [Philaster rises. Dion. Mark but the King, how pale he looks, he fears! Oh, this same whorson conscience, how it jades My language to you, prince; you, foreign man ! upon (A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess), Whose memory I bow to !) was not left To your inheritance, and I up and living— 190 These arms and some few friends beside the gods To part so calmly with it, and sit still And say, 'I might have been.' I tell thee, Phara- When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten, 201 Pha. The outlandish prince looks like a tooth-drawer. King. You are too bold. Phi. You displease us: No, sir, I am too tame, Too much a turtle, a thing born without passion, Sails over, and makes nothing. 210 King. I do not fancy this. Call our physicians: sure, he's somewhat tainted. Thra. I do not think 'twill prove so. Dion. H'as given him a general purge already, Although I run my name out of the kingdom! 220 Pha. What you have seen in me to stir offence, To mutiny within you), without disputing Your genealogies, or taking knowledge Whose branch you are: the King will leave it me, And I dare make it mine. You have your answer. Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him That made the world his, and couldst see no sun And ringed among the choicest of his friends And from this presence, spite of all these bugs, 231 King. Sir, you wrong the prince; I gave you not this freedom To brave our best friends: you deserve our frown. Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler used. Gal. Ladies, This would have been a pattern of succession, This day within my knowledge. 240 Meg. I cannot tell what you may call your knowledge; But the other is the man set in mine eye : Gal. Oh, 'tis a prince of wax ! King. Philaster, tell me A dog it is. 250 The injuries you aim at in your riddles. Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance, My griefs upon you and my broken fortunes, My wants great, and now nothing-hopes and fears, My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laughed at. Dare you be still my king, and right me? King. Give me your wrongs in private. Phi. Take them, And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas. [They whisper. Cle. He dares not stand the shock. 259 Every man in this age has not a soul of crystal, for |