And so well, that if the King please, I find
I may live many years.

_Di_. The King must please,
Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,
Your wrongs and [injuries]: shrink not, worthy Sir,
But add your Father to you: in whose name,
We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up
The rods of vengeance, the abused people,
Who like to raging torrents shall swell high,
And so begirt the dens of these Male-dragons,
That through the strongest safety, they shall beg
For mercy at your swords point.

_Phi_. Friends, no more,
Our years may he corrupted: 'Tis an age
We dare not trust our wills to: do you love me?

_Thra_. Do we love Heaven and honour?

_Phi_. My Lord _Dion_, you had
A vertuous Gentlewoman call'd you Father;
Is she yet alive?

_Di_. Most honour'd Sir, she is:
And for the penance but of an idle dream,
Has undertook a tedious Pilgrimage.

[ _Enter a_ Lady.