Agen. I could not mark them much; but his whole frame
Is of such making as if Despair had been
The architect. We may wish, [but] not hope,
A long life in him.
Phy. Sir, will you now take horse?
Agen. I should, had you
Not promised the original of this
Misfortune: and, trust me, it is a bold
Curiosity, that makes me search into it; for if
The silent presentation hath struck amazement
In me, how shall I guard my heart, when sad
Disasters violence my passions?
Phy. Thus then in short:—
These noble kingdoms, Thessaly and Sparta,
Have, from the time two kings commanded all,
Under both titles still been emulous,
And jealous of th' advantages which each
Suspected might be in the adverse party.
This caused a lasting war; but the fierce storm
Threaten'd not till the reign of these two kings,
Both crowned young, both of an equal age;
Both having all the passions of their subjects,
Their fears excepted. The ambassadors
That should congratulate the new-made kings,
As if one spirit had inspired both,
Came with this message, little varied—
"That each were joy'd in such an enemy;
No more the fearful wisdom of old men
Should rust their swords, that fate had given to one
Command of all." In short, their forces met,
And in ten bloody days none could decide
Which had the better cause:
The virtues of each prince so prevalent,
Fortune was but spectator. To conclude,
Urgent affairs at home compell'd each king
To leave their armies. Ours committed his
To Strimon, father of Prince Lysicles;
The Duke of Argos did command the Spartan,
Who, swoll'n with the great name of general,
Before his king had hardly left the fight
Of this great army, draws his forces out,
And fac'd us in our trenches. 'Tis not yet
Unquestion'd whether fear or policy
Made Strimon keep in his: but certainly this,
That virtue, sharpen'd by necessity,
Procur'd our triumph. Here Lysicles
Anticipated years unto his fame,
And on the wounds of his brave enemy
Did write his story, which our virgins sing.
But from this conquest did begin the cause
Of all his misery.
Agen. How from this? unless the king should judge it
Too dangerous an honour to be given to one.
Phy. He's lord of so much virtue,
He cannot fear it in a subject.
Agen. And as the common voice reach'd him in Athos,
There's none he looks on with [a] greater
Demonstration of his love.
Phy. I know not that; but this I am perfect in:
His judgment is directed by the king so powerfully,
He cannot think his virtues injured,
Though many should be nearer in his graces,
'Twould afflict him strangely if any should
Be thought to love his prince better than he.
Agen. Pardon my interruption: pray proceed.
Phy. The duke, defeated, posts unto the Court,
Where he design'd unto his dire revenge
Th' obscurest path that ever time reveal'd
Since her first glass: procures his king to throw
Neglects upon him, and to seem in doubt
Of his obliged faith. A severe search
Is made on his papers, his treasure valued
By the public officer, and himself,
Twice deprehended in a seeming flight,
Calumniated, libell'd, and disgrac'd
By his own seeking and belief of others,
Who, judging him to be their honour's ruin,
First raze his house, and then demand his life
As sacrifice unto their brothers, sons,
Nephews, and public loss. Sedition
Had now the face of piety, which (once
Receiv'd as just) can hardly be repell'd.
The king with difficulty doth assure his life
With promise of his banishment.
This he foresaw and sought, and did disguise
Himself, in fear of the incensed people:
Parts in the night, and partner of his fate
Hath his fair niece, who is so innocent
She cannot think there is a greater crime
Practis'd by men than error, which does make
Us seem more vicious than in act we are.