Mazeres, thou armest us that wonne the day.
Exit. all but Zenarchus and Tymethes.
Zen. None but Mazeres, that Court flye, could on
The vertues the King blow such corruption,
Man falls to vice in minutes, runnes, and leapes,
But unto goodnesse he takes wary steppes.
How soone a Tyrant? why Tymethes, Friend, Brother?
Tym. Peace, prithee peace, you undoe me if you wake me,
I hope I'me in a dreame.
Zen. Would twere so happy?
Tym. No! why then wake Begger; bat the comfort is
I have brave seeming kinsemen: why Zenarchus
Tis not the losse of Kingdome, Fathers banishment,
Vncertainty of Mother, afflicts me
With halfe the violence that thofe cross'd affections,
Betwixt your Princely Sister and our selfe,
Who upon fortune, or her Fathers frowne,
Erecting the whole Fabricke of her love,
Either now will not, or else dare not love me.
Zen. Chance alters not affection, see in me
that hold thee deare still spight of Tyrannie:
Fate does but dim the glasse of a right man,
He still retaines his worth, doe what fate can.
Change faith for drosse? I will not call her sister,
That shall hate vertue for affliction.
Enter Amphridote.
And here she comes to cleare those doubts her selfe.
Amp. Strange alteration I will the King my Father
Goe to his grave a Russian and a Treacher?
In his gray heires turne Tyrant his friends?
Wasting his penitentiall times in plots,
Acting more sinnes than he hath teares to weepe for them?
Tym. Alas Lady, fortune hath chang'd my state, can you love a begger?
Am. Why fortune hath the least comand ore love,
She cannot drive Tymethes from himselfe,
And tis Tymethes; not his painted glories,
My soule in her accomplish'd wish desires.
Zen. What say you now sir?
Tym.
