+Dec.+ That love, Which arms us both, bears witness that I had Much rather have encounter'd lightning, than Create the least distraction to her peace. But since the vote of Arragon decrees That my long service hath the justest claim To challenge her regard, thus I must stand Arm'd to make good the title. +Flo.+ This vain language Scarce moves my pity. What desert can rise So high to merit her? Were each short moment O' th' longest-liv'd commander lengthen'd to An age, and that exposed to dangers mighty, As cowards frame them, can you think his service Might challenge her regard? Like th' heavenly bounty, She may distribute favour; but 'tis sin To say our merits may pretend a title. +Dec.+ You talk, sir, like a courtier. +Flo.+ But, my lord, You'll find a soldier in this arm which, strengthen'd By such a cause, may level mountains high, As those the giants (emblems of your thoughts) Piled up to have scal'd heaven. +Dec.+ That must be Decided by the sword: and if, my lord, Our interview hath no more sober end Than a dispute so froward, let us make The trumpet drown the noise. +Flo.+ You shall not want That music. But before we yielded up Our reason unto fury, I desired We might expostulate the ground of this So fatal war, and bring you to that low Obedience nature placed you in. +Dec.+ My ear attends you. +Flo.+ Where is then that humble zeal You owe a mistress, if you can throw off That duty which you owe her as your queen? What justice (that fair rule of human actions) Can you pretend for taking arms? +Dec.+ Pray, forward. +Flo.+ I'll not deny (for from an enemy I'll not detract) during her nonage, when The public choice and her great father's will Enthron'd you in the government, you manag'd Affairs with prudence equal to the fame You gain'd: and when your sword did fight her quarrel, 'Twas crown'd with victory. +Dec.+ I thank your memory. +Flo.+ But hence ambition and ingratitude Drew only venom: for by these great actions You labour'd not t' advance her state or honour, But subtly wrought upon the people's love-- A love begot by error, following still Apparency, not truth. +Dec.+ You construe fairly. +Flo.+ The sun is not more visible, when not One cloud wrinkles the brow of heaven; for On that false strength you had i' th' multitude You swell'd to insolence, dared court your queen, Boasting your merit like some wanton tyrant I' th' vanity of a new conquest. And, When you perceiv'd her judgment did instruct her To frown on the attempt, profanely, 'gainst All laws of love and majesty, you made The people in your quarrel seize upon The sacred person of the fairest queen Story e'er boasted. +Dec.+ Have you done, my lord?