_Lys_. Tell the queen,--I know not what, I am distracted so.-- But go, and leave me to my thoughts.-- [_Exit_ FLAVIA. Was ever such amazing news, Told in so strange and critical a moment?-- What shall I do?-- Does she love Philocles, who loves not her; And loves not Lysimantes, who prefers her Above his life?--What rests, but that I take This opportunity, which she herself Has given me, to kill this happy rival!-- Assist me, soldiers! _Phil_. They shall buy me dearly. _Cand_. Ah me, unhappy maid! _Enter _CELADON, _with his Friends, unbuttoned and reeling_. _Cel_. Courage, my noble cousin! I have brought A band of blades, the bravest youths of Syracuse; Some drunk, some sober, all resolved to run Your fortune to the utmost.--Fall on, mad boys! _Lys_. Hold a little!--I'm not secure of victory against these desperate ruffians. _Cel_. No, but I'll secure you! They shall cut your throat for such another word of them. Ruffians, quoth a'! call gamesters, whoremasters, and drunkards, ruffians! _Lys_. Pray, gentlemen, fall back a little. _Cel_. O ho, are they gentlemen now with you!--Speak first to your gentlemen soldiers to retire; And then I'll speak to my gentlemen ruffians. [CEL. _signs to his party_. There's your disciplined men now.--[_They sign, and the Soldiers retire on both sides_. Come, gentlemen, let's lose no time: While they are talking, let's have one merry main before we die, for mortality sake. _1 Fr_. Agreed! here's my cloak for a table. _2 Fr_. And my hat for a box. [_They lie down and throw_. _Lys_. Suppose I killed him! 'Twould but exasperate the queen the more: He loves not her, nor knows he she loves him:-- sudden thought is come into my head,-- So to contrive it, that this Philocles, And these his friends, shall bring to pass that for me, Which I could never compass.--True, I strain A point of honour; but then her usage to me-- It shall be so.-- Pray, Philocles, command your soldiers off; As I will mine: I've somewhat to propose, Which you perhaps may like. _Can_. I will not leave him. _Lys_. 'Tis my desire you should not. _Phil_. Cousin, lead off your friends. _Cel_. One word in your ear, coz:--Let me advise you, either make your own conditions, or never agree with him: his men are poor rogues, they can never stand before us. [_Exeunt all but_ Lys. Phil. _and_ Cand. _Lys_. Suppose some friend, ere night, Should bring you to possess all you desire; And not so only, but secure forever The nation's happiness? _Phil_. I would think of him, As some god or angel. _Lys_. That god or angel you and I may be to one another. We have betwixt us An hundred men; the citadel you govern: What were it now to seize the queen? _Phil_. O impiety! to seize the queen!-- To seize her, said you? _Lys_. The word might be too rough,--I meant, secure her. _Phil_. Was this your proposition?-- And had you none to make it to but me?