Queen. No creature better; for his skill in play
Is equal with our knowledge. Good my lord,
Send him to my privy-chamber presently.
[Exeunt Queen, Mariana, &c.
Enter Philocles.
Epire. I will, and send affliction after him;
And see where he comes. My lord, your presence hath
Saved me much labour and a little care,
I was in quest for your fair company:
The queen, my lord, entreats you earnestly
You will attend her in her privy-chamber.
Phil. Unto what end?
Epire. Only to waste some time at cards with her,
The lazy hours stick heavy on her thoughts,
Which she would lose with some forgetfulness.
Phil. Faith, and play ne'er relish'd worse
Within my thoughts.
I know not how, but leaden[217] heaviness
Draws me to be in love with melancholy.
Epire. The fitter for you with more light sports
To chase that blood-consumer from your breast,
Who with a honey-poison doth devour,
And kill the very life of livelihood.
Phil. 'Tis true, and therefore shall your counsel tutor me;
Where is her majesty?
Epire. Gone
To her privy-chamber, where she doth expect you.