In characters known only to myself And to the king, in which I us'd to clothe Secret despatches when I writ to him From foreign states, and within the circle I grav'd the king's less seal, which then I kept. Some gold besides and jewels there I left, That, whosoe'er should find him might with that Defray the charge of his education; Howe'er, next day I purposed to return With speed, and carry it to some abode. CLE. But did the queen know this? EUB. She did not, Till my return next day: then, when I told her, The child was thence remov'd where I had left him. CLE. Belike those thieves had carried him away. EUB. 'Tis probable. CLE. How could the queen take this So sad a story? EUB. With such impatience That, being weak before, she shortly died. CLE. But yet, sir, with your favour, might you not Have made inquiry after him? EUB. I durst not, For fear of being discover'd. On your life, Take heed how you reveal this. CLE. I am charm'd. EUB. Then let us watch my daughter, for I fear The flight she made was for some other end Than for retirement, which she does pretend. CLE. Henceforth I shall obey her as my princess, And love her as my sister, not my mistress. EUB. You shall do well: come, let us to the king. SCENA III. HYLAS, MIRTILLUS, _Chorus of shepherds and shepherdesses,_ _representing Paris, OEnone, Venus,_ _and the Graces_. HYL. It was my dream, and I will send it to her; Though I myself by her too cruel sentence Must never see her face. MIR. What paper's that? Love verses, as I live! What's here? a dream! Nay, I will read 'em: therefore stand aside. MIRTILLUS _reads_. _Sleep, thou becalmer of a troubled sprite,_ _Which lead'st my fancy to that sweet delight_ _Wherein my soul found rest when thou didst show_ _Her shadow mine whose substance is not so,_ _Wrap up mine eyes in an eternal night:_ _For since my day springs only from that light,_ _Which she denies me, I account the best_ _Part of my life is that which gives me rest._ _And thou, more hard to be entreated than_ _Sleep to the heated eyes of frantic men;_ _That thou canst make my joys essential_ _Which are but shadows now, be liberal,_ _And outdo sleep; let me not dream in vain,_ _Unless thou mean'st I ne'er shall sleep again._ Alas, poor soul! will she not let thee sleep? HYL. I knew I should be mock'd, but I'll divert him. [_Aside._ What are those thou hast brought along with thee? MIR. The masquers, Hylas; these are they must trip it Before the king: dost like their properties? HYL. What, Paris and OEnone--the old story?