QUEEN. Nay, I have two, yet one doth me little good. PHIL. Indeed, mine are two queens, and one I'll throw away. EPIRE. Doth your majesty mark that? You are the king that she is weary of, And my sister the queen that he will cast away. PHIL. Can you decard,[220] madam? QUEEN. Hardly, but I must do hurt.[221] PHIL. But spare not any to confirm your game. EPIRE. Would you have more plain proof of their foul treason? They do not plot your highness' death alone. CYP. But others, which they think depend on me. EPIRE. Myself, and those which do you services: They are bloody-minded; yet for myself, Were it not for your safety, I could wish You would remit and blot these errors out, In hope that time would bring them to more virtue. CYP. O, then thou didst not love me, nor thy faith Took hold upon my scandals; fie, I'm mad, Sham'd and disgrac'd, all wit-stung, wisdomless. Within there, ho! _Enter_ FLORIO. FLO. Did your majesty call? CYP. Go instantly--(nay, Do not look sad or pale, neither dispute with me Nor with thy thoughts; but as thou lov'st thy life, Effect my will)--call all my guard. Ascend the queen's privy-chamber, and in my name Arrest her and Prince Philocles of treason. Make no delay, but in thy diligence Show how thou dost respect me. Arrested once, Convey them unto straitest prison: away. [_Exit_ FLORIO. For you, my lord, go instantly prepare, And summon all the princes of our land Unto an instant parliament, where we Will have them both condemn'd immediately, Without their answers, plaints, or piteousness. Since women's tears do blunt revenge's sword. I will not see, nor hear them speak one word. [_Exeunt_ CYPRUS _and_ EPIRE. _Enter_ FLORIO, _and a guard aloft, to the_ QUEEN _and_ PHILOCLES. FLO. Madam and Prince Philocles, in the king's name I arrest you both of high treason. PHIL. He lies that saith I ever knew the word. QUEEN. I pray thee, do not affright me, gentle lord, Thy words do carry death even in their sound. FLO. Madam, I am most sorry 'tis my fortune, But what I do is by the king's commission. QUEEN. Whence is that warrant grounded, or what's our treason? FLO. I am his instrument, but not his councillor. PHIL. Madam, be patient; that we do not know, We have no cause to grieve at. As for envy's toil, Let her even break her own gall with desire, Our innocence is our prevention. Be cheerful, madam, 'tis but some villain's sound, Made only to amaze, not to confound. And what must we do, my lord? FLO. To prison are the words of my commission. PHIL. Then lead the way; he hath of grief no sense, Whose conscience doth not know of his offence. FOOTNOTES: