Leu. O, I am miserable!
King. Thou art not, if not wilful; yield, Leucothoë,
It shall be secret: Philocles for his life
Shall thank thy love, but never know the price
Thou paid'st for it. Be wise; thou heardst me swear:
I cannot now show mercy, thou may'st save him,
And if he die, 'tis thou that art the tyrant.
Leu. I should be so, if I should save him thus.
Nay, I should be a traitor to your grace,
Betray your soul to such a foe as lust.
But since your oath is pass'd, dear Philocles,
I'll show to thee an honest cruelty,
And rather follow thee in spotless death,
Than buy with sinning a dishonour'd life.
King. Yet pity me, Leucothoë; cure the wound
Thine eyes have made: pity a begging king!
Uncharm the charms of thy bewitching face,
Or thou wilt leave me dead. Will nothing move thee?
Thou art a witch, a traitor: thou hast sought
By unresisted spells thy sovereign's life.
Who are about us? Call in the lords again.
Enter Polymetes, Virro, Euphues, &c.
Lord Polymetes, take your daughter to you,
Keep her at home.
Pol. I will, my liege; Roscio, see her there.
I wonder what is done.
[Aside.]
King. Euphues, I have ta'en a solemn oath
Never to grant a pardon to thy son.
Euph. O, say not so, my liege; your grace, I know,
Has mercy for a greater fault than this.
King. My oath is pass'd, and cannot be recall'd.