King. Rife; you have it, Sir.
Speak your intents, Sir.

Phi. Shall I fpeak 'em freely ?-
Be still my royal sovereign.
King. As a fubject,
We give you freedom.

Dion. Now it heats.

Phi. Then thus I turn

My language to you, prince; you, foreign man!
Ne'er ftare, nor put on wonder, for you must
Endure me, and you fhall. This earth you tread on
(A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess)
By my dead father (oh ! I had a father,
Whose memory I bow to) was not left
To your inheritance, and I up and living;
Having myself about me and my fword,
The fouls of all my name, and memories,
Thefe arms and fome few friends, befides the gods,
Το part fo calmly with it, and sit still,

And fay, I might have been.' I tell thee, Pharamond,

When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten, And my name afhes: For, hear me, Pharamond, This very ground thou goeft on, this fat earth, My father's friends made fertile with their faiths, Before that day of shame, fhall gape and swallow

Thee

Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave,
Into her hidden bowels. Prince it shall;
By Nemefis, it shall !

King. You do displease us:

You are too bold.

Phi. No, Sir, I am too tame,

Too much a turtle, a thing born without paffion, A faint fhadow, that every drunken cloud fails over, And maketh nothing.

Pha. What you have feen in me to ftir offence, I cannot find; unless it be this lady,

Offer'd into mine arms, with the fucceffion,

Which I must keep, though it hath pleas'd your

fury

To mutiny within

you.

The king grants it,

And I dare make it mine.

You have your anfwer.

Phi. If thou wert fole inheritor to him

That made the world his, and were Pharamond As truly valiant, as I feel him cold,

And ring'd among the choiceft of his friends, And from this prefence, spite of all these stops, You fhould hear further from me.

King. Sir, you wrong the prince:

I gave you not this freedom to brave our beft friends. You do deserve our frown: Go to, be better temper'd. Phi. It must be, Sir, when I am nobler us❜d.

King. Philafter, tell me

The injuries you aim at in your riddles.

Phi. If you had my eyes, Sir, and fufferance, My griefs upon you, and my broken fortunes, My wants great, and now nought but hopes and fears,

My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laugh'd at, Dare you be still my king, and right me not? King. Go to:

Be more yourself, as you respect our favour; You'll ftir us elfe: Sir, I must have you know That you're, and shall be, at our pleasure, what fashion we

Will put upon you: Smooth your brow, or by the Gods

Phi. I am dead, Sir, you're my fate: It was not I Said I was wrong'd: I carry all about me My weak stars led me to, all my weak fortunes. Who dares in all this prefence speak, (that is But man of flesh, and may be mortal) tell me, I do not most entirely love this prince, And honour his full virtues !

King. Sure he's poffeft.

Phi. Yes, with my father's fpirit: It's here, oh,

king!

A dangerous fpirit; now he tells me, king,

I was a king's heir; bids me be a king;
And whispers to me, these be all my fubjects.
Tis ftrange he will not let me fleep, but dives
Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes
That kneel, and do me fervice, cry me king:
But I'll fupprefs him, he's a factious spirit,
And will undo me: Noble Sir, your hand,
I am your fervant.

King. Away, I do not like this:

For this time I do pardon your wild speech.

[Exeunt King, Pha. Are. and train. Dion. See, how his fancy labours: Has he not Spoke home and bravely? What a dangerous train Did he give fire to! how he shook the king! Made his foul melt within him, and his blood Run into whey! it stood upon his brow Like a cold winter dew.

Phi. Gentlemen,

You have no fuit to me? I am no minion : You ftand, methinks, like men that would be courtiers,

If you could well be flatter'd at a price,

Not to undo your children: You're all honest: Go, get you home again, and make your country A virtuous court, to which your great ones may, In their diseased age, retire, and live reclufe.

"

Clere. How do you, worthy Sir?

Phi. Well, very well,

And fo well, that, if the king please, I find,
I may live many years.

Dion. The king must please,

Whilft we know what you are, and who you are, Your wrongs and injuries: Shrink not, worthy Sir,

But add your father to you: In whofe name

We'll waken all the Gods, and conjure up

The rods of vengeance, the abused people;

Who, like to raging torrents, fhall fwell high, And fo begirt the dens of thefe male-dragons, That, through the strongest fafety, they shall beg For mercy at your fword's point.

Phi. Friends, no more;

Our ears may be corrupted: 'Tis an age

We dare not truft our wills to: Do you love me? Thra. Do we love Heav'n and honour?

Phi. My lord Dion,

You had a virtuous gentlewoman call'd you
Is the yet alive?

Dion. Moft honour'd Sir, fhe is:

father:

And, for the penance but of an idle dream,
Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage.

Enter