INO. Though his company's the dearest thing I love, Yet for his good I could digest his absence, But that I doubt a mighty mischief might spring From this small grain of indiscretion. The king is old, and there are knaves about the court That (if he knew it not) would tell him so: And men, conscious to themselves of a deficiency, Are still most jealous of a growing worth. Perhaps a thinking father (for plodding Is old age's sickness) may take notice of His son's retirement, and misconstrue it so: Nothing is impossible: heaven send it otherwise! ARA. This care becomes you, sir; but I dare swear 'Tis needless: the king is but an ill dissembler; and had he But the least thought of such a thing, he'd hide it Less than the sun conceals his brightness: Besides, a man as great as Ephorbas is, whose rule Of living hath been directed by the line Of virtue, cannot mistrust that vice in his Own son, of which himself was never guilty; Had his younger years been tainted with inordinate Desires, or had his crown been the effect Of some audacious crime, perhaps his guilty Conscience might have mistrusted. But 'tis impossible, where there is no guilt, To fear a punishment. INO. You speak my hopes: But this for certain, gentlemen: the king, Who was admired for his matchless sleeping, Whose night no noise disturb'd, and it was difficult To wake before his hour, sleeps but unquietly of late, Will start at midnight, and cry _Plangus_: Is greedy after news, and walks unevenly, And sometimes on the sudden looks behind him; And when one speaks to him, scarcely marks one syllable. Surely the mind of some distemper shakes His soul into this looseness. _Enter_ MESSENGER. MES. My lord, the prince desires To meet you half an hour hence i' th' gallery. INO. Me? MES. Yes, my lord. INO. I shall. Your servant, captains. ALL. Yours, my lord. [_Exeunt at several doors._ SCENE V. PLANGUS, ANDROMANA. PLAN. It cannot be so late. AND. Believe't, the sun is set, my dear, And candles have usurp'd the office of the day. PLAN. Indeed, methinks a certain mist, Like darkness, hangeth[81] on my eyelids. But too great lustre may undo the sight: A man may stare so long upon the sun That he may look his eyes out; and certainly 'Tis so with me: I have so greedily Swallow'd thy light that I have spoil'd my own. AND. Why shouldst thou tempt me to my ruin thus? As if thy presence were less welcome to me Than day to one who, 'tis so long ago He saw the sun, hath forgot what light is. Love of thy presence makes me wish this absence. Phoebus himself must suffer an eclipse, And clouds are still foils to the brightest splendour: Some short departure will (like [to] a river Stopp'd) make the current of our pleasures run The higher at our next meeting. PLAN. Alas, my dearest! tell those so That know not what it is to part from blessing; Bid not him surfeit to taste health's sweetness, That knows what 'tis to groan under a disease.