all to the charming _Philander_; and if so, where, oh where is my
security, that I shall not be abandon'd by the lovely victor? For it
is not your vows which you call sacred (and I alas believe so) that
can secure me, though I, heaven knows, believe them all, and am
undone; you may keep them all too, and I believe you will; but oh
_Philander_, in these fatal circumstances you have engag'd yourself,
can you secure me my lover? Your protestations you may, but not the
dear protestor. Is it not enough, oh _Philander_, for my eternal
unquiet, and undoing, to know that you are married and cannot
therefore be entirely mine; is not this enough, oh cruel _Philander_?
But you must espouse a fatal cause too, more pernicious than that of
matrimony, and more destructive to my repose: oh give me leave to
reason with you, and since you have been pleas'd to trust and afflict
me with the secret, which, honest as I am, I will never betray; yet,
yet give me leave to urge the danger of it to you, and consequently to
me, if you pursue it; when you are with me, we can think, and talk,
and argue nothing but the mightier business of love; and it is fit
that I, so fondly, and fatally lov'd by you, should warn you of the
danger. Consider, my lord, you are born noble, from parents of
untainted loyalty; blest with a fortune few princes beneath
sovereignty are masters of; blest with all-gaining youth, commanding
beauty, wit, courage, bravery of mind, and all that renders men
esteem'd and ador'd: what would you more? What is it, oh my charming
brother then, that you set up for? Is it glory? Oh mistaken, lovely
youth, that glory is but a glittering light, that flashes for a
moment, and then disappears; it is a false bravery, that will bring an
eternal blemish upon your honest fame and house; render your
honourable name hated, detested and abominable in story to after ages;
a traitor! the worst of titles, the most inglorious and shameful; what
has the King, our good, our gracious monarch, done to _Philander_? How