Leon. The gods goe with them:
Who be those that wait there?
Tele. The Lord Ismenus, your General, for his dispatch.
Leon. Oh Nephew: we have no use to imploy your
Virtue in our War: now the Province is well setled.
Hear you aught of the Marquis?
Ismen. No Sir.
Leon. 'Tis strange he should be gone thus:
These five days he was not seen.
Tim. I'll hold my [life], I could bolt him in an hour:
Leon. Where's my Daughter?
Dori. About the purging of the Temples, Sir.
Leon. She's chaste and virtuous; fetch her to me,
And tell her I am pleas'd to grant her now
Her last request, without repenting me. [Exit Nis.
Be it what it will: she is wise, Dorialus
And will not press me farther than a Father.
Dor. I pray the best may follow; yet if your Grace
Had taken the opinions of your people,
At least of such, whose wisdoms ever wake
About your safety, I may say it, Sir,
Under your noble pardon: that this change
Either had been more honor to the gods,
Or I think not at all. Sir, the Princess.