_Nean._ Near _Vesta's_ Temple, for there he dismiss'd me, And full of troubled thoughts, calling for _Crates_: He went with him, but whither, or to what purpose I am a stranger. _Enter_ Theanor _and_ Crates. _Era._ They are come back _Neanthes_. _The._ I like the place well. _Cra._ Well Sir? it is built As if the Architect had been a Prophet, And fashion'd it alone for this night's action; The Vaults so hollow, and the Walls so strong, As _Dian_ there might suffer violence, And with loud shrikes in vain call _Jove_ to help her; Or should he hear, his Thunder could not find An entrance to it. _The._ I give up my self Wholly to thy direction, worthiest _Crates_; And yet the desperate cure that we must practice Is in it self so foul, and full of danger, That I stand doubtful whether 'twere more manly To dye not seeking help, or that help being So deadly, to pursue it. _Cra._ To those reasons I have already urg'd, I will add these. For but consider Sir-- _Era._ It is of weight What e'r it be, that with such vehement action, Of Eye, Hand, Foot, nay all his bodies motion, _Crates_ incites the Prince to. _Nean._ Then observe, With what variety of passions he Receives his reasons; now he's pale, and shakes For fear or anger; now his natural red Comes back again, and with a pleasing smile He seems to entertain it; 'tis resolv'd on Be it what 'twill: to his ends may it prosper Though the State sink for't. _Cra._ Now you are a Prince Fit to rule others, and in shaking off The Bonds in which your Mother fetters you Discharge your debt to nature, she's your guide, Follow her boldly, Sir. _The._ I am confirm'd, Fall what may fall. _Cra._ Yet still disguise your malice In your humility. _The._ I am instructed. _Cra._ Though in you[r] heart there rage a thousand tempests, All calmness in your looks. _The._ I shall remember. _Cra._ And at no hand, though these are us'd as agents Acquaint them with your purpose till the instant That we employ them; 'tis not fit they have Time to consider, when 'tis done, reward Or fear will keep them silent: yet you may Grace them as you pass by, 'twill make them surer, And greedier to deserve you. _The._ I'll move only As you would have me: Good-day Gentlem[e]n; Nay, spare this ceremonious form of duty To him that brings love to you, equal love, And is in nothing happier, than in knowing It is return'd by you; we are as one. _Sos._ I am o'r-joy'd, I know not How to reply: but-- _Era._ Hang all buts; my Lord, For this your bounteous favour-- _Nean._ Let me speak, If to feed Vultures here, after the halter Has done his part, or if there be a Hell To take a swinge or two there, may deserve this.