Flo. The queen is all for revels; her light heart,
Unladen from the heaviness of state,
Bestows itself upon delightfulness.
Mech. She follows her creation and her sex.
In my conceit it is as vile a thing
To see the worthy model of a woman,
Who had not been at all but to give life
And stirring spleen to man's alacrity,
To sit o'erwhelm'd with thought, with dark amuse,
And the sad sullenness of griev'd dislike;[207]
As to behold an old man in his furs,
Whose well-spent youth hath given his age full strength,
To be his country's best physician,
To caper to his grave, and with vain gauds
Trick up his coffin, and upon his tomb
To leave no knowledge but his levity.
Flo. 'Tis true indeed, and Nature in herself
Doth give us still distaste in contraries.
And in my thoughts
It is as base to see a woman man,
As see a man a long-rob'd feminine.
Mech. Well, we forget ourselves, my lord;
What, is the music ready? I pray you,
Command the guard to take their halberts in their hands;
The ushers should have seen this room perfumed.
In faith, they are too negligent: here comes the queen.
Enter the Queen, Mariana, and waiting-women: Philocles, and other lords: the King disguised like one of the guard at the one end of the stage, and the duke so likewise disguised at the other end of the stage.
Queen. Loud music there, and let the god of harmony
Ravish our senses with delightful airs,
Tun'd to the music of the higher sphere;
And with that mortal sign most rarely show
The joys in Jove's high court, to feast the gods,
Making that place abound in happiness.
Come, noble Philocles, I seize you first—
Mariana, there are choice of other lords—
In gracing you, it is the king I grace.
Mar. Come, honest lord, 'tis you must stand to me,
The queen in mine doth challenge interest,
And I must fly for shelter to my friends.
Mech. And I'll be glad to be your coverture.
Mar. O no, my lord, not till the weather change.
Mech. Well, when you please—meantime you do me grace.