Queen. You are above them now, grown popular:—
Ah, Philocles! could I expect from you
That usage!—no tongue but yours
To move me to a marriage?—[Weeps.
The factious deputies might have some end in't,
And my ambitious cousin gain a crown:
But what advantage could there come to you?
What could you hope from Lysimantes' reign,
That you can want in mine?
Phil. You yourself clear me, madam. Had I sought
More power, this marriage sure was not the way.
But, when your safety was in question,
When all your people were unsatisfied,
Desired a king,—nay more, designed the man,—
It was my duty then,—
Queen. Let me be judge of my own safety. I am a woman; But danger from my subjects cannot fright me.
Phil. But Lysimantes, madam, is a person,—
Queen. I cannot love.
Shall I,—I, who was born a sovereign queen,
Be barred of that, which God and nature gives
The meanest slave, a freedom in my love?—
Leave me, good Philocles, to my own thoughts;
When next I need your counsel, I'll send for you.
Phil. I'm most unhappy in your high displeasure; But, since I must not speak, madam, be pleased To peruse this, and therein read my care.
[He plucks out a paper, and presents it to her; but drops, unknown to him, a picture. Exit PHI.
Queen. [reads.] A catalogue of such persons,— What's this he has let fall, Asteria? [Spies the box.
Ast. Your majesty?—
Queen. Take that up; it fell from Philocles.