_Cra._ Pish, your worst. [_Exit._ _Con._ Away you hounds after your scent. _Onus._ Come, we'll scorn to walk to'm: now they are gone, We'l away too. [_Exeunt._ _Con._ Why bear you this my Lord? _Euph._ To shew the passive fortitude the best; Vertue's a solid Rock, whereat being aym'd The keenest darts of envy, yet unhurt Her Marble _Heroes_ stand, built of such Bases, Whilst they recoyle, and wound the Shooters faces. _Enter Queen and Ladies._ _Con._ My Lord, the Queen. _Quee._ Gentle _Euphanes_, how, How do'st thou honest Lord? oh how I joy To see what I have made, like a choyce Workman, That having fram'd a Master-piece, doth reap An universal commendation. Princes are Gods in this. I'll build thee yet (The good foundation so pleases me) A story or two higher; let dogs bark, They are fools that hold them dignified by blood, They should be only made great that are good. _Euph._ Oraculous Madam. _Quee._ Sirrah, I was thinking If I should marry thee, what merry tales Our neighbour Islands would make of us; But let that pass, you have a Mistriss That would forbid our Banes: troth I have wish'd A thousand times that I had been a man, Than I might sit a day with thee alone, And talk, But as I am I must not; there's no skill In being good, but in not being thought ill. Sirrah, who's that? _Euph._ So't please your Majesty _Conon_, the friend I su'd for. _Quee._ 'Tis dispatch'd. _Con._ Gracious Madam. I owe the gods and you my life. _Quee._ I thank you, I thank you heartily; and I do think you A very honest man, he says you are: But now I'll chide thee; what's the cause my Son, For my eye's every where, and I have heard, So insolently do's thee Contumelies Past sufferance (I am told) yet you complain not, As if my justice were so partial As not to right the meanest: credit me, I'll call him to a strict account, and fright, By his example, all that dare curb me In any thing that's just: I sent you for him.