[Exeunt Phi. and Pha.
Cap. Thou art the King of Courtesie: Fall off again my sweet youths, come and every man Trace to his house again, and hang his pewter up, then to The Tavern and bring your wives in Muffes: we will have Musick and the red grape shall make us dance, and rise Boys.
[Exeunt.
Enter King, Are. Gal. Meg. Cle. Dion, Thra. Bellario, and Attendants.
King. Is it appeas'd?
Di. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night,
As peaceable as sleep, my Lord Philaster
Brings on the Prince himself.
King. Kind Gentlemen!
I will not break the least word I have given
In promise to him, I have heap'd a world
Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope
To wash away.
Enter Philaster and Pharamond.
Cle. My Lord is come.
King. My Son!
Blest be the time that I have leave to call
Such vertue mine; now thou art in mine arms,
Me thinks I have a salve unto my breast
For all the stings that dwell there, streams of grief
That I have wrought thee, and as much of joy
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes:
Let them appease thee, take thy right; take her,
She is thy right too, and forget to urge
My vexed soul with that I did before.