ACT THE THIRD SCENE I The Court of the Palace. Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. Cle. Nay, doubtless, 'tis true. Dion. Ay; and 'tis the gods That raised this punishment, to scourge the King With his own issue. Is it not a shame For us that should write noble in the land, A man that is the bravery of his age, And see the sceptre ready to be cast That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to be To yon strange prince, who, but that people please In that which should be his most noble part, His mind? Thra. That man that would not stir with you To aid Philaster, let the gods forget Dion. Cle. 'Tis without question so. Why, gentlemen, Ay, 'tis past speech, 20 30 Good morrow to your honour: we have spent Phi. My worthy friends, You that can keep your memories to know Dion. My good lord, We come to urge that virtue, which we know 40 Lives in your breast, forth. Rise, and make a head: The nobles and the people are all dulled With this usurping King; and not a man, That ever heard the word, or knew such a thing Phi. How honourable is this love in you To me that have deserved none! friends Know, my (You, that were born to shame your poor Philaster With too much courtesy), I could afford To melt myself in thanks: but my designs Are not yet ripe: suffice it, that ere long I shall employ your loves; but yet the time Dion. The time is fuller, sir, than you expect ; 51 That which hereafter will not, perhaps, be reached By violence may now be caught. As for the You know the people have long hated him; Phi. Why, what of her? Dion. Is loathed as much as he. Phi. By what strange means? 60 [Offers to draw his sword: they hold him. And thou shalt feel it! I had thought thy mind Had been of honour. Thus to rob a lady Dion. Phi. This is most strange : Sure, he does love her. I do love fair truth: Sirs, let go my arms. She is my mistress, and who injures her 70 Thra. Nay, good my lord, be patient. Phi I ask you pardon, sir ; Phi Oh, say not so! The princess light? Dion. Why, she was taken at it. 80 90 Phi. 'Tis false! by Heaven, 'tis false it cannot be! Can it? Speak, gentlemen; for love of truth, speak! Is't possible? Can women all be damned? Dion. Why, no, my lord. Phi. Phi. Why, then, it cannot be. What boy? Oh, good gods! Dion. A page, a boy that serves her. A little boy? |