_Cel_. I know a score or two of madcaps here hard by, whom I can pick up from taverns, and gaming-houses, and bordels; those I'll bring to aid him,--Now, Florimel, there's an argument for wenching: Where would you have had so many honest men together, upon the sudden, for a brave employment? _Flo_. You'll leave me then, to take my fortune? _Cel_. No:--If you will, I'll have you into the places aforesaid, and enter you into good company. _Flo_. 'Thank you, sir; here's a key, will let me through this back-door to my own lodgings. _Cel_. If I come off with life, I'll see you this evening; if not,--adieu, Florimel! _Flo_. If you come not, I shall conclude you are killed; or taken, to be hanged for a rebel to-morrow morning: and then I'll honour your memory with a lampoon, instead of an epitaph. _Cel_. No, no! I trust better in my fate: I know I am reserved to do you a courtesy. [_Exit_ CEL. [_As_ FLORIMEL _is unlocking the door to go out,_ FLAVIA _opens it against her, and enters to her, followed by a Page_. _Fla_. Florimel, do you hear the news? _Flo_. I guess they are in pursuit of Philocles. _Fla_. When Lysimantes came with the queen's orders, He refused to render up Candìope; And, with some few brave friends he had about him, Is forcing of his way through all the guards. _Flo_. A gallant fellow!--I'll in, will you with me?-- Hark! the noise comes this way! _Fla_. I have a message from the queen to Lysimantes.-- I hope I may be safe among the soldiers. _Flo_. Oh, very safe!--Perhaps some honest fellow in the tumult may take pity of thy maidenhead, or so.--Adieu! [_Exit_ FLO. _Page_. The noise comes nearer, madam. _Fla_. I am glad on't.--This message gives me the opportunity of speaking privately with Lysimantes. _Enter_ PHILOCLES _and_ CANDIOPE, _with three Friends, pursued by_ LYSIMANTES, _and Soldiers_. _Lys_. What is it renders you thus obstinate? You have no hope of flight, and to resist is full as vain. _Phil_. I'll die rather than yield her up. _Fla_. My lord! _Lys_. How now? some new message from the queen?-- Retire a while to a convenient distance. [_To the Soldiers_. LYS. _and_ FLAV. _whisper_. _Lys_. O Flavia, 'tis impossible! the queen in love with Philocles! _Fla_. I have suspected it before; but now My ears and eyes are witnesses. This hour I overheard her, to Asteria, Making such sad complaints of her hard fate!-- For my part, I believe, you lead him back But to his coronation. _Lys_. Hell take him first! _Fla_. Presently after this she called for me, And bid me run, and, with strict care, command you, On peril of your life, he had no harm: But, sir, she spoke it with so great concernment, Methought I saw love, anger, and despair, All combating at once upon her face.