2d Doc. Those organs nature gave to move the tongue,
He fully doth possess as well as we:
Which makes us think his sudden apoplexy
Is either will, vow, or a miracle.
Epire. I should think strangely, had we not stranger things
On earth; but wonders[176] now are most familiar:
But here comes his majesty. Now we shall see
If this dumb beast can speak before the king.
Cornets, and enter Cyprus, Queen, Philocles, Mariana, and attendants.
Cyp. My best of friends, my dearest Philocles,
Thy griefs run in my spirit, make me sad,
And dull my sense with thine affliction.
My soul with thine doth sympathise in woe,
And passion governs him that should rule all,
[Philocles does not reply.
What say you, doctors, is there no hope of help?
1st Doc. No hope, my lord; the cure is desperate.
Cyp. Then I am king of grief; for in his words
Found I more music than in choirs of angels.
It was as silver, as the chime of spheres,
The breath of lutes, or love's deliciousness:
Next to my queen, he is my joy on earth:
Nor shall the world contain that happy good,
Which with my tears I will not woo for him.
My Lord of Epire, let it be straight proclaim'd
Through all the cities in our kingdom's verge,
That whoso will avow to cure this prince,
And bring his work to wish'd effectualness,
Shall have ten thousand crowns and our best love;
But if he fail in his great enterprise,
His daring is the loss of present life.
Since no man hitherto could do him good,
The next shall help him, or else lose his blood.
Epire. Your majesty shall have your will perform'd.