SCENE II.
Enter Constantius, Celius, Lucius a Roman, and Guard of Britons.
Con. Refus'd a Safeguard, menac'd and confin'd!
Do Royal Guests no better Usage find?
Are these the Customs of the British Court?
Here only then let Beasts, not Men, resort.
This Treatment, Briton, from another Man———
Cel. It is my Will, and help it as you can.
From Contracts sign'd, and Articles agreed,
With British Faith it suits not to recede:
How may the World interpret such Neglect,
And on her Beauty, or her Fame, reflect?
Roman, consider well what Course you run,
Resolve to be my Prisoner, or my Son.
If this sounds rude, then know, we Britons slight
The supple Arts that Foreigners delight,
Nor stand on Forms to vindicate our Right.
Luc. Happy Extremity! now, Prince, be blest,
Of all you love, and all you wish, possest;
No Censure you incur, constrain'd to chuse,
Possest at once of Pleasure and Excuse.
Con. If for my self alone I would possess,
'Twere sensual Joy, and brutal Happiness:
