_Queen_. See there, Asteria, All we have done succeeds still to the worse; We hindered him from seeing her at home, Where I but only heard they loved; and now She comes to court, and mads me with the sight on't. _Ast_. Dear madam, overcome yourself a little, Or they'll perceive how much you are concerned. _Queen_. I struggle with my heart-- But it will have some vent. Cousin, you are a stranger at the court. [_To_ CAND. _Cand_. It was my duty, I confess, To attend oftner on your majesty. _Queen_. Asteria, mend my cousin's handkerchief; It sits too narrow there, and shows too much The broadness of her shoulders--Nay, fie, Asteria, Now you put it too much backward, and discover The bigness of her breasts. _Cand_. I beseech your majesty, Give not yourself this trouble. _Queen_. Sweet cousin, you shall pardon me; A beauty such as yours Deserves a more than ordinary care, To set it out. Come hither, Philocles, do but observe, She has but one gross fault in all her shape, That is, she bears up here too much, And the malicious workman has left it Open to your eye. _Phil_. Where, and please your majesty? Methinks 'tis very well. _Queen_. Do not you see it? Oh how blind is love! _Cand_. And how quick-sighted malice! [_Aside_. _Queen_. But yet, methinks, those knots of sky do not So well with the dead colour of her face. _Ast_. Your majesty mistakes, she wants no red. [_The Queen here plucks out her glass, and looks sometimes on herself, sometimes on her rival_. _Queen_. How do I look to-day, Asteria? Methinks, not well. _Ast_. Pardon me, madam, most victoriously. _Queen_. What think you, Philocles? come, do not flatter. _Phil_. Paris was a bold man, who presumed, To judge the beauty of a goddess. _Cand_. Your majesty has given the reason why He cannot judge; his love has blinded him. _Queen_. Methinks, a long patch here, beneath her eye, Might hide that dismal hollowness. What think you, Philocles? _Cand_. Beseech you, madam, ask not his opinion: What my faults are it is no matter; He loves me with them all. _Queen_. Ay, he may love; but when he marries you, Your bridal shall be kept in some dark dungeon. Farewell, and think of that, too easy maid! I blush, thou sharest my blood. [_Exeunt Queen and_ ASTERIA. _Cand_. Inhuman queen! Thou canst not be more willing to resign Thy part in me, than I to give up mine. _Phil_. Love, how few subjects do thy laws fulfil, And yet those few, like us, thou usest ill! _Cand_. The greatest slaves, in monarchies, are they, Whom birth sets nearest to imperial sway; While jealous power does sullenly o'erspy, We play, like deer, within the lion's eye. 'Would I for you some shepherdess had been, And, but each May, ne'er heard the name of queen! _Phil_. If you were so, might I some monarch be, Then, you should gain what now you lose by me; Then, you in all my glories should have part, And rule my empire, as you rule my heart.