Ame. But can your highness brook to be so ri

vall'd,

Considering th' inequality of the persons?

Near. I can, Amelus; for affections, injured By tyranny, or rigour of compulsion,

Like tempest-threaten'd trees unfirmly rooted, Ne'er spring to timely growth: observe, for in

stance,

Life-spent Penthea, and unhappy Orgilus.
Ame. How does your grace determine?
Near. To be jealous

In public, of what privately I'll further;

And, though they shall not know, yet they shall

find it.

SCENE III.

An Apartment in the Palace.

[Exeunt.

Enter the KING, led by HEMOPHIL and GRONEAS, followed by ARMOSTES, with a Box, CROTOLON, and PROPHILUS. The KING is placed in a Chair. Amyc. Our daughter is not near?

Arm. She is retired, sir,

Into her gallery.

Amyc. Where's the prince our cousin?
Pro. New walk'd into the grove, my lord.

Amyc. All leave us

Except Armostes, and you, Crotolon;

We would be private.

Pro. Health unto your majesty.

[Exeunt PRO. HEM. and GRON.

Amyc. What! Tecnicus is gone?

Arm. He is, to Delphos ;

And to your royal hands presents this box. Amyc. Unseal it, good Armostes; therein lie The secrets of the oracle; out with it;

[ARM. takes out the scroll.

Apollo live our patron! Read, Armostes.

Arm. The plot in which the Vine takes root
Begins to dry from head to foot;
The stock, soon withering, want of sap
Doth cause to quail the budding grape:
But, from the neighbouring Elm, a dew
Shall drop, and feed the plot anew.

Amyc. That is the oracle; what exposition
Makes the philosopher?

Arm. This brief one, only.

The plot is Sparta, the dried Vine the king;
The quailing grape his daughter; but the thing
Of most importance, not to be reveal'd,

Is a near prince, the Elm: the rest conceal'd.

TECNICUS,

Amyc. Enough; although the opening of this

riddle

Be but itself a riddle, yet we construe

How near our labouring age draws to a rest: But must Calantha quail too? that young grape Untimely budded! I could mourn for her;

Her tenderness hath yet deserv'd no rigour
So to be crost by fate.

Arm. You misapply, sir,

With favour let me speak it, what Apollo
Hath clouded in hid sense; I here conjecture.
Her marriage with some neighbouring prince, the

dew

Of which befriending Elm shall ever strengthen Your subjects with a sovereignty of power.

Crot. Besides, most gracious lord, the pith of oracles

Is to be then digested, when the events
Expound their truth, not brought as soon to light
As utter'd; Truth is child of Time; and herein
I find no scruple, rather cause of comfort,
With unity of kingdoms.

Amyc. May it prove so,

For weal of this dear nation!-Where is Itho

cles?

Armostes, Crotolon, when this wither'd Vine
Of my frail carcase, on the funeral pile,
Is fired into its ashes, let that young man

Be hedged about still with your cares and loves;
Much owe I to his worth, much to his service.—
Let such as wait come in now.

Arm. All attend here!

Enter ITHOCLES, CALANTIIA, PROPHILUS, ORGILUS, EUPHRANEA, HEMOPHIL, and GRONEAS.

Cal. Dear sir! king! father!

Ith. Oh, my royal master!

Amyc. Cleave not my heart, sweet twins of my life's solace,

With your fore-judging fears; there is no physic
So cunningly restorative to cherish

The fall of age, or call back youth and vigour,
As
your consents in duty; I will shake off

This languishing disease of time, to quicken

Fresh pleasures in these drooping hours of sad

ness:

Is fair Euphranea married yet to Prophilus ?
Crot. This morning, gracious lord.

Org. This very morning;

Which, with your highness' leave, you may ob

serve too.

Our sister looks, methinks, mirthful and sprightly, As if her chaster fancy could already

Expound the riddle of her gain in losing

A trifle, maids know only that they know not.
Pish! prithee, blush not; 'tis but honest change
Of fashion in the garment, loose for straight,
And so the modest maid is made a wife.
Shrewd business-is't not, sister?

Euph. You are pleasant.

Amyc. We thank thee, Orgilus, this mirth becomes thee.

But wherefore sits the court in such a silence?
A wedding without revels is not seemly.

Cal. Your late indisposition, sir, forbade it. Amyc. Be it thy charge, Calantha, to set forward

The bridal sports, to which I will be present;

If not, at least consenting:-mine own Ithocles,

I have done little for thee yet.

Ith. You have built me

To the full height I stand in.

Cal. Now or never!

May I propose a suit?

Amyc. Demand, and have it.

[Aside.

Cal. Pray, sir, give me this young man, and no further

Account him yours, than he deserves in all things To be thought worthy mine; I will esteem him According to his merit.

Amyc. Still thou'rt my daughter,

Still grow'st upon my heart. Give me thine hand;

[To ITH. Calantha, take thine own; in noble actions Thou'lt find him firm and absolute. I would not Have parted with thee, Ithocles, to any

But to a mistress, who is all what I am.

Ith. A change, great king, most wish'd for,

cause the same.

Cal. Thou art mine.-Have I now kept my word?

Ith. Divinely.

Org. Rich fortunes guard, the favour of a prin

cess,

Rock thee, brave man, in ever crowned plenty!—
You are minion of the time; be thankful for it.
Ho! here's a swing in destiny-apparent!
The youth is up on tiptoe, yet may stumble.

[Aside.