Poor Basilius was so appalled that his legs bowed under him; his eyes looked as though he would gladly hide himself, and his old blood going to his heart, a general shaking all over his body possessed him. At length, with a wan mouth, he was about to give a stammering answer, when it came into Zelmane’s head by this device, to make her profit of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said unto him, “Your words, mighty Prince, were unfit either for me to hear, or you to speak, but yet the large testimony I see of your affection makes me willing to suppress a great number of errors. Only thus much I think good {210} to say, that the same words in my lady Philoclea’s mouth, as from one woman to another, so as there were no other body by, might have had a better grace, and perchance have found a gentler receipt.” Basilius, whose senses by desire were held open, and conceit was by love quickened, heard scarcely half her answer out, but that, as if speedy flight might save his life, he turned away, and ran with all the speed his body would suffer him towards his daughter Philoclea, whom he found at that time dutifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiously watching her, having left Mopsa to do the like service to Pamela. Basilius forthwith calling Philoclea aside, with all the conjuring words which desire could indite and authority utter, besought her she would preserve his life, in whom her life was begun, she would save his grey hairs from rebuke, and his aged mind from despair; that if she were not cloyed with his company, and that she thought not the earth over-burdened with him, she would cool his fiery grief, which was to be done but by her breath: that in fine, whatsoever he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirit depending of her, that if she continued cruel he could no more sustain his life than the earth remain fruitful in the sun’s continual absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts; and that she needed not to disdain any service, though never so mean, which was warranted by the sacred name of father. Philoclea more glad than ever she had known herself that she might, by this occasion, enjoy the private conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweet a feeling of virtue in her mind, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast over fair thoughts, but with humble grace answered her father: that there needed neither promise nor persuasion to her, to make her do her uttermost for her father’s service; that for Zelmane’s favour, she would in all virtuous sort seek it towards him: and that as she would not pierce further into his meaning, than himself should declare, so would she interpret all his doings to be accomplished in goodness: and therefore desired, if otherwise it were, that he would not impart it to her, who then should be forced to begin, by true obedience, a show of disobedience: rather