Cand. What makes you melancholick? I doubt, I have displeased you.
Phil. No, my love, I am not displeased with you, But with myself, when I consider, How little I deserve you.
Cand. Say not so, my Philocles; a love so true as yours, That would have left a court, and a queen's favour, To live in a poor hermitage with me,—
Phil. Ha! she has stung me to the quick!
As if she knew the falsehood I intended:
But, I thank heaven, it has recall'd my virtue;
[Aside.
Oh! my dear, I love you, and you only; [To her.
Go in, I have some business for a while;
But I think minutes ages till we meet.
Cand. I knew you had; but yet I could not chuse, But come and look upon you. [Exit CANDIOPE.
Phil. What barbarous man would wrong so sweet a virtue!
Enter the Queen in black, with ASTERIA.
Madam, the states are straight to meet; but why
In these dark ornaments will you be seen?
Queen. They fit the fortune of a captive queen.
Phil. Deep shades are thus to heighten colours set; So stars in night, and diamonds shine in jet.