[ Enter Philaster.
Di. Here he comes. Good morrow to your honour, We have spent some time in seeking you.
Phi. My worthy friends, You that can keep your memories to know Your friend in miseries, and cannot frown On men disgrac'd for vertue: A good day Attend you all. What service may I do worthy your acceptation?
Di. My good Lord,
We come to urge that vertue which we know
Lives in your breast, forth, rise, and make a head,
The Nobles, and the people are all dull'd
With this usurping King: and not a man
That ever heard the word, or knew such a thing
As vertue, but will second your attempts.
Phi. How honourable is this love in you
To me that have deserv'd none? Know my friends
(You that were born to shame your poor Philaster,
With too much courtesie) I could afford
To melt my self in thanks; but my designs
Are not yet ripe, suffice it, that ere long
I shall imploy your loves: but yet the time is short of
what I would.
Di. The time is fuller Sir, than you expect;
That which hereafter will not perhaps be reach'd
By violence, may now be caught; As for the King,
You know the people have long hated him;
But now the Princess, whom they lov'd.
Phi. Why, what of her?
Di. Is loath'd as much as he.
Phi. By what strange means?
Di. She's known a Whore.