_Men_. What is it, Madam, you would have me do?

_Qu_. Not side with _Philip_, as you hope my Grace--
Now, Sir, you know my Pleasure, think on't well.

_Men_. Madam, you know your Power o'er your Slave,
And use it too tyrannically--but dispose
The Fate of him, whose Honour, and whose Life,
Lies at your Mercy--
I'll stay and die, since 'tis your gracious Pleasure.

_King. Philip_, upon your Life,
Upon your strict Allegiance, I conjure you
To remain at Court, till I have reconcil'd you.

_Phil_. Never, Sir;
Nor can you bend my Temper to that Tameness.

_King_. 'Tis in my Power to charge you as a Prisoner;
But you're my Brother--yet remember too
I am your King--No more.

_Phil_. I will obey.

_King. Abdelazer_,
I beg you will forget your Cause of Hate
Against my Brother _Philip_, and the Cardinal;
He's young, and rash, but will be better temper'd.

_Abd_. Sir, I have done, and beg your royal Pardon.