Gal. A Dog it is.
King. Philaster, tell me,
The injuries you aim at in your riddles.
Phi. If you had my eyes Sir, and sufferance,
My griefs upon you and my broken fortunes,
My want's great, and now nought but hopes and fears,
My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laught at.
Dare you be still my King and right me not?
King. Give me your wrongs in private.
[They whisper.
Phi. Take them, and ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.
Di. He dares not stand the shock.
Di. I cannot blame, him, there's danger in't. Every man in this age, has not a soul of Crystal for all men to read their actions through: mens hearts and faces are so far asunder, that they hold no intelligence. Do but view yon stranger well, and you shall see a Feaver through all his bravery, and feel him shake like a true Tenant; if he give not back his Crown again, upon the report of an Elder Gun, I have no augury.
King. Go to:
Be more your self, as you respect our favour:
You'I stir us else: Sir, I must have you know
That y'are 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, y'are my fate: it was not I
Said I was not wrong'd: I carry all about me,
My weak stars led me to all my weak fortunes.
Who dares in all this presence speak (that is
But man of flesh and may be mortal) tell me
I do not most intirely love this Prince,
And honour his full vertues!