University of Virginia Library

SCEN 3.

Enter Phylanter solus.
Phyl.
Trust me a little, Fortune, with my self,
I do not ask thy aide grow big my hopes,
And swell unto a Throne,
To Crown my Love, and my Ambition on;
From thence I'le view the thing cal'd Honesty,
And grieve 'tis so contemn'd, and ought to be.
—Man is like pliant Wax,
That yields unto a fair Impression,
Though sent not from the noblest Metall:
And, in this world, it bears an equall show
To seem but onely honest, or be so.
And when the Crown's once gain'd, there needs no fears:
Crimes change their natures then, or Men change theirs.
—Dye—Scruples—in my thoughts,
And let my mind be a preposterous grave,
That bore you first, to bury you again:
—and your base issue—Fear—
Dye too, when Beauty and a Crown's so near.
—Lycespes welcome; what news?

Enter Lycespes.
Lyces.
All as you would have it, Sir:
The Troop is march'd, and stays you in the Wood,
Between this and the Castle.

Phyl.
Let's follow then;
For Time's a busie Offerer of our Interests
To every check of Fortune.

Lyces.
We make some threescore Horse,
Which will be three Divisions; one for each Port.

Phyl.
Let Martianus command the last.
As we go, I'le give you perfect Orders.
I wish they had some means to cherish a Resistance,
That he may help to his own ruine;
He must not live to plead his innocence.
But Time, that never will be staid,
Calls us to act what we have scarcely waigh'd.

[Exeunt.