EPH. I do believe thee: But yet, methinks, should he be grown so impious, There might be found excuses. A crown is a temptation; especially so near one: 'Tis not with princes as with other sons; And I am told too-- Hath not my hand the palsy?-- Doth a crown become grey hairs? To be a king Might make some men forswear all conscience. But I know Plangus hath far nobler thoughts; And yet an empire might excuse a parricide. RIN. Sir, sure, you are a stranger to your son; For, give me leave to say, your fears are vain: So great a virtue as the prince's cannot Anticipate his hopes by any sin. Honour and duty have been acquainted with him now Too long to be divorc'd. Some sycophants there are (Such creatures still will haunt the court), I know, Love not the prince, because he loves not them. Sir, shut your ears to them: they will betray you To your ruin. Jealousy's a disease Should be below a king, as that which seizeth On the basest spirits. O, shut it from your soul! One may read in story what dire effects The fury hath brought forth. Kings make away Their only sons, and princes their fathers; And when they have done, they may despair at leisure. EPH. I do not think Plangus Hath plots or on my crown or me; He was virtuous always, and is still, I hope: But why is he so much from court then, and alone too? I do but ask the question. RIN. It can be no design, believe me, sir; For crowns are won by other courses. Aspirers must grow popular, be hedg'd about With their confederates. Then would he flatter you, Be jolly still, as if no melancholy thought were in him. A guilty conscience would then teach him policy, And he would seek to take suspicion from all his carriages; Innocence makes him careless now. EPH. Thou hast almost resolv'd me, The tempest in my soul is almost laid, And wants but time to calm it. Youth hath its whimsies, nor are we To examine all their paths too strictly. We went awry ourselves when we were young. RIN. Sir! EPH. Thou may'st be gone, Rinatus. [_Exit_ RINATUS. SCENE III. EPHORBAS _solus_. The blessing of an honest servant! This Rinatus is truer unto me. He loves the king as well as I Ephorbas; And may I live but to reward him, For he's too honest for a court. _Enter_ ARTESIO. How now, Artesio? thy looks speak strong amazement; I am with child to hear the news: prythee, Be quick in the delivery. ART. The prince, an't please your majesty---- EPH. What of him, Artesio? ART. I have observ'd, is much retir'd of late. EPH. So have I too; this is no news. ART. And I can whisper in your ear the cause. 'Twas chance, no policy of mine, betray'd his privacies: Ill-offices are not the engines I desire To rise by, only love to the young prince Makes me reveal them.