Phil. Whirlwinds bear me hence, before I live
To that detested day!—That frown assures me
I have offended, by my over-freedom;
But yet, methinks, a heart so plain and honest,
And zealous of your glory, might hope your pardon for it.
Queen. I give it you; but, When you know him better, You'll alter your opinion; he's no ill friend of yours.
Phil. I well perceive,
He has supplanted me in your esteem;
But that's the least of ills this fatal wretch
Has practised—Think, for heaven's sake, madam, think,
If you have drunk no philtre.
Queen. Yes, he has given me a philtre; But I have drunk it only from his eyes.
Phil. Hot irons thank 'em for't! [Softly, or turning from her.
Queen. What's that you mutter? Hence from my sight! I know not whether I ever shall endure to see you more.
Phil. But hear me, madam.
Queen. I say, begone.—See me no more this day.—
I will not hear one word in your excuse:
Now, sir, be rude again; and give laws to your queen.
[Exit PHILOCLES bowing.
Asteria, come hither.
Was ever boldness like to this of Philocles?
Help me to reproach him, for I resolve
Henceforth no more to love him.
Ast. Truth is, I wondered at your patience, madam: Did you not mark his words, his mein, his action, How full of haughtiness, how small respect?
Queen. And he to use me thus, he whom I favoured, Nay more, he whom I loved?