INO. A poor discovery! Who might not find 'em out, That would be so uncivil? I was about To follow him, but thought it an ignoble way, Beneath the name of friendship, and so desisted. About four days ago, meeting him i' th' long gallery, I ask'd him how he did? Taking me by the hand, He wrung it, and after a sigh or two, told me, "Not very well, but he had business"--and so we parted. I saw him not again in twenty hours after; And then I ask'd him where he'd been so long? He told me (as if he was ashamed To deny me such a poor request) I must not know: And when I told him his often absence was observ'd, Is it? (saith he) I cannot help it; but it shall No more be so; and at the last he stole away: Since when I saw him not. NIC. O this wicked peace! Inophilus, Is there no hopes of war? To lie at home to see our armours rust; We could keep the prince sober and merry too, If he would but exchange his court for a camp. INO. The king is old, and doats upon his son; Is loth to venture him to danger: Yet at this time there is occasion. The Argives have refus'd to pay their tribute, And are for certain preparing for invasion: Some say they have got into Iberia already. ARA. Nay, then there's hopes; If we could but find the prince with a buff-coat again, I should be once more merry. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ EPHORBAS _the King_, RINATUS, EUBULUS, _and_ ARAMNES, _three Lords_. EPH. See the ambassadors entertain'd With such an evenness as should be us'd to men We neither fear nor love; let neither Too much obsequiousness teach them insolency, Nor any ill-usage brand us with incivility: Stay you, Rinatus. [_He sighs. Exeunt_ EUBULUS _and_ ARAMNES. Open thy bosom, and receive torrents of sorrow, That lie like rocks of lead upon my soul; Honest Rinatus, experience bids me trust thee With a mighty secret. Thou canst not choose But know my son of late is much retir'd. I do not like that youth should be thus melancholy: Let them enjoy themselves; for age will come, Whose impotency will deny all pleasures. I do believe he loves me. Ha? RIN. Yes, doubtless, better than sick men health; Or those who are penn'd up in darkness Love the sun. EPH. I speak not, as if I thought he did not; For thou know'st I humour him, afford him Liberty enough; I never chide him, nor express The least dislike of any action. Am not I a gentle father? Methinks, were I a son again to such a father, I should not think he liv'd too long; shouldst thou, Rinatus? RIN. No more doth he, upon my soul: One command of yours would make him venture upon Lightning, nay, almost make him act a sin, A thing he fears to name.