The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 02Dryden, John
General
The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 02
Dryden, John
English literature
_Queen_. These are the insinuating promises
Of those, who aim at power. But tell me, cousin,
(For you are unconcerned, and may be judge,)
Should that aspiring man compass his ends,
What pawn of his obedience could he give me,
When kingly power were once invested in him?
_Lys_. What greater pledge than love! When those fair eyes
Cast their commanding beams, he, that could be
A rebel to your birth, must pay them homage.
_Queen_. All eyes are fair,
That sparkle with the jewels of a crown:
But now I see my government is odious;
My people find I am not fit to reign,
Else they would never--
_Lys_. So far from that, we all acknowledge you
The bounty of the gods to Sicily:
More than they are you cannot make our joys;
Make them but lasting in a successor.
_Phil_. Your people seek not to impose a prince;
But humbly offer one to your free choice:
And such a one he is--may I have leave
To speak some little of his great deserts?--
_Queen_. I'll hear no more.--
For you, attend to-morrow at the council:
[_To the Deputies_.
There you shall have my firm resolves:--meantime,
My cousin, I am sure, will welcome you.
_Lys_. Still more and more mysterious: But I have
Gained one of her women that shall unriddle it.--
[_Aside_.
Come, gentlemen.
_All Dep_. Heaven preserve your majesty!
[_Exeunt_ LYS. _and Dep_.
_Queen_. Philocles, you may stay.
_Phil_. I humbly wait your majesty's commands.
_Queen_. Yet, now I better think on't, you may go.
_Phil_. Madam!
_Queen_. I have no commands;--or, what's all one,
You, no obedience.
_Phil_. How! no obedience, madam?
I plead no other merit; 'tis the charter
By which I hold your favour, and my fortunes.
_Queen_. My favours are cheap blessings, like rain and sunshine,
For which we scarcely thank the gods, because
We daily have them.
_Phil_. Madam, your breath, which raised me from the dust,
May lay me there again:
But fate nor time can ever make me lose
The sense of your indulgent bounties to me.
_Queen_. You are above them now, grown popular:--
Ah, Philocles! could I expect from you
That usage!--no tongue but yours
To move me to a marriage?--[_Weeps_.
The factious deputies might have some end in't,
And my ambitious cousin gain a crown:
But what advantage could there come to you?
What could you hope from Lysimantes' reign,
That you can want in mine?
_Phil_. You yourself clear me, madam. Had I sought
More power, this marriage sure was not the way.
But, when your safety was in question,
When all your people were unsatisfied,
Desired a king,--nay more, designed the man,--
It was my duty then,--
_Queen_. Let me be judge of my own safety.
I am a woman;
But danger from my subjects cannot fright me.
_Phil_. But Lysimantes, madam, is a person,--
_Queen_. I cannot love.
Shall I,--I, who was born a sovereign queen,
Be barred of that, which God and nature gives
The meanest slave, a freedom in my love?--
Leave me, good Philocles, to my own thoughts;
When next I need your counsel, I'll send for you.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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