_Are_. Bring him in:
You gods that would not have your dooms withstood,
Whose holy wisdoms at this time it is,
To make the passion of a feeble maid
The way unto your justice, I obey.


[ _Enter_ Phil.

_La_. Here is my Lord _Philaster_.

_Are_. Oh! 'tis well:
Withdraw your self.

_Phi_. Madam, your messenger
Made me believe, you wisht to speak with me.

_Are_. 'Tis true _Philaster,_ but the words are such,
I have to say, and do so ill beseem
The mouth of woman, that I wish them said,
And yet am loth to speak them. Have you known
That I have ought detracted from your worth?
Have I in person wrong'd you? or have set
My baser instruments to throw disgrace
Upon your vertues?

_Phi_. Never Madam you.

_Are_. Why then should you in such a publick place,
Injure a Princess and a scandal lay