Caf. I'll have it thought fo, hence. [Exit Meffenger.

Leo. Plant Force to batter

The Walls, and in their ruin bring us word

They live not.

Eub. Good Sir, hear me.

Caf. Let it work;

Were Demetrius dead, we eafily might uncrown
This fwoln Impoftor, and my Son be fair
To piece with young Sophia, who I hear
Repents her late Affront.

Eub. Their Lives may do

You Service, let not Blood ftain your beginnings;
The People not yet warm in their Allegiance,
May think it worth their Tumult to revenge it
With bazard of yourself.

Leo. Who dares but think it?

Yet offer first our Mercy; if they yield,
Demetrius must not live my Lord your counsel
What if he were in Heaven? Caf. You have my
Confent; You fha'not ftay long after him. [Afide.
Leo. Sophia's not my Sifter To prevent all
That may indanger us, we'll marry her;
That done, no matter though we stand discover'd,
For in her Title then we're King of Epire,

Without dispute.

Caf. Hum; in my Judgment, Sir,

That wo'not do fo well.

Leo. What's your Opinion?

Caf. He countermines my Plot: Are you fo cunning? Leo. What's that you mutter, Sir?

Caf. I mutter, Sir?

Leo. Beft fay I am no King, but fome Impoftor

Rais'd up to gull the State.

Caf. Very fine! To have faid within

Few hours you'd been no King, nor like to be,
Was not i'th' compafs of High Treafon, I take it.

Eub. Reftrain your Anger, the King's mov'd, fpeak not.
Caf. I will fpeak louder yet, do I not know him?
That felf-fame Hand that rais'd him to the Throne
Shall pluck him from it; is this my Reward?
VOL. IX.

E

Leo.

Leo. Our Guard, to Prifon with him.

Caf. Me to Prison?

Leo. Off with his Head. Caf. My Head? Eub. Vouchfafe to hear me,

Great Sir. Leo. (41) How dares he be fo infolent ?
Caf. I ha' wrought my felf into a fine condition;
D'ye know me, Gentlemen ?

Phi. Very well, my Lord;

How are we bound to Heav'n for multiplying
Thefe bleffings on the Kingdom.

Leo. We allow it.

Eub. Counsel did never blaft a Prince's Ear.

Leo. Convey him to the Sanctuary of Rebels,
Nefiorius' Houfe, where our proud Brother has
Enfcons'd himself, they'll entertain him lovingly,
He'll be a good addition to the Traitors;
Obey me, or you die for't; what are Kings,
When Subjects dare affront 'em? Caf. I thall vex
Thy Soul for this.

Leo. Away with him: When Kings

Frown, let Offenders tremble: This flows not
From any Cruelty in my Nature, but
The Fate of an Ufurper: he that will
Be confirm'd great without juft Title to it,

Must lose Compaffion, know what's good, not do it.

Enter Polidora and her Servant.

Ser. Madam,

[Exeunt.

The Princess Sophia. Polid. I attend her Highness.

Enter Sophia.

How much your Grace honours your humble Servant.
Sop. I hope my Brother's well.

Polid. I hope fo too, Madam.

Sop. Do you but hope? he came to be your Gueft.

(41) Caf. How dares he be fo infolent? ] 'Tis poffible that this Line belongs to Caffander; but I think more probable it fhould be Leonatus's, and accordingly I have prefix'd his Ñame to it.

Polid. We are all his, whilft he is pleas'd to honour This poor Roof with his Royal Prefence, Madam. Sop. I came to ask your Pardon, Polidora. Polid. You never, Madam, trefpafs'd upon me, Wrong not your Goodness.

Sop. I can be but penitent,

Unless you point me out fome other way
To fatisfie.

Polid. Dear Madam, do not mock me.

Sop. There is no injury, like that, to love
I find it now in my own Sufferings:

But though I would have robb'd thee of Arcadius,
Heav'n knew a way to reconcile your Hearts,
And punish'd me in thofe Joys you have found:
I read the Story of my lofs of Honour,

Yet can rejoice, and heartily, that

Have met your own again.

Polid. Whom do you mean?
Sop. My Brother.

you

Polid. He's found to himself and Honour ;
He is my King,, and though I must acknowledge
He was the Glory of my Thoughts, and I
Lov'd him, as you did, Madam, with defire
To be made his, Reafon and Duty fince
Form'd me to other knowledge, and I now
Look on him without any wifh of more
Than to be call'd his Subject.

Sop Has he made

Himself lefs capable, by being King?
Polid. Of what?

Sop. Of your Affection?

Polid. With your pardon, Madam,

Love, in that Sense you mean, left Polidora

When he forfook Arcadius: I disclaim

All Ties between us, more than what the Name

Of King must challenge from my Obedience.

1

Sop. [Afide.] This does confirm my Jealoufie; my

Heart!

For my fake, Madam, has he loft his value?

Polid. Let me befeech your Grace, I may have leave

To answer in fome other Caufe, or Perfon:
This Argument but opens a fad wound
To make it bleed afresh; we may change this
Difcourfe: I would elect fome Subject whole
Praifes may more delight your Ear than this
Can mine; let's talk of young Lyfimachus.
Sop. Ha! my prefaging Fears.
Polid. How does your Grace?

Sop. Well, you were talking of Lyfimachus,
Pray give me your Opinion of him.

Polid. Mine?

It will be much short of his Worth: I think him
A Gentleman fo perfect in all Goodness,
That if there be one in the World deferves
The beft of Women, Heav'n created him
To make her happy.

Sop. You've in a little, Madam,

Express'd a Volume of Mankind, a Miracle;
But all have not the fame degree of Faith,
He is but young

Polid. What Miftrefs would defire

Her Servant old? he has both Spring to please
Her Eye, and Summer to return a Harvest.
Sop. He's black-

Polid. He fets a Beauty off more rich,

And fhe that's fair will love him; faint Complexions
Betray effeminate Minds, and love of change:

Two Beauties in a Bed, compound few Men;

He's not fo fair to counterfeit a Woman,

Nor yet fo black, but Blushes may betray

His Modefty.

Sop. His Proportion exceeds not

Polid. That praifes him, and a well compacted Frame

Speaks Temper, and fweet flow of Elements:

Vaft Buildings are more oft for fhew than ufe :

I would not have my Eyes put to the Travel

Of many Acres, e'er I could examine

A man from Head to Foot; he has no great,
But he may boaft, an elegant Compofition.

Sop. I'll hear no more; you have fo far out-done

My

My injuries to you, that I call back
My Penitence, and muft tell Polidora,
This Revenge ill becomes her. Am I thought
So loft in Soul to hear, and forgive this?
In what Shade do I live? or fhall I think
I have not, at the loweft, enough Merit,
Setting afide my Birth, to poize with yours?
Forgive my modeft Thoughts, if I rife up
in
My own Defence, and tell this unjust Lady,
So great a Winter hath not frozen yet
My Cheek, but there is fomething Nature planted,
That carries as much Bloom, and Spring upon't,
As yours. What flame is in your Eye, but may
Find competition here? (forgive again
My Virgin Honour ;) what is in your Lip
To tice th' enamour'd Soul, to dwell with more
Ambition, than the yet unwither'd blush
That speaks the Innocence of mine?

Oh Brother!

Enter Demetrius.

Dem. I'll talk with you anon; my Polidora, Allow thy Patience 'till my Breath recover, Which now comes laden with the richeft news

Thy Ear was ever bleft with.

Sop. Both your Looks

And Voice express some welcome Accident.

Dem. Guess what in wifh could make me fortunate,

And Heav'n hath dropt that on Demetrius.

Sop. What means this Extafie?

Dem. 'Twere fin to bufie

Thy Thoughts upon't, I'll tell thee

Retain fome part it is too wide a Joy

that I could

thou wo't scarce believe me

To be exprefs'd fo foon, and yet it falls

In a few Syllables

I am no King.

Sop. How's that!

Polid. Good Heav'n forbid!

Dem. Forbid? Heav'n has reliev'd me with a Mercy

I knew not how to ask; I have, they say,