Sir I have.

_Enter_ 1 Gent, _and_ Tigranes.

_1 Gent_.

Sir, here is the _Armenian_ King.

_Arb_.

He's welcome.

_1 Gent_.

And the Queen-mother, and the Princess wait without.

_Arb_.

Good _Gobrias_ bring 'em in.
_Tigranes_, you will think you are arriv'd
In a strange Land, where Mothers cast to poyson
Their only Sons; think you you shall be safe?

_Tigr_.

Too safe I am Sir.

_Enter_ Gobrias, Arane, Panthea, Spaconia, Bacurius,
Mardonius _and_ Bessus, _and two Gentlemen_.

_ Ara_.

As low as this I bow to you, and would
As low as is my grave, to shew a mind
Thankful for all your mercies.

_Arb_.

O stand up,
And let me kneel, the light will be asham'd
To see observance done to me by you.

_ Ara_.

You are my King.

_Arb_.

You are my Mother, rise;
As far be all your faults from your own soul,
As from my memory; then you shall be
As white as innocence her self.

_ Ara_.

I came
Only to shew my duty, and acknowledge
My sorrows for my sins; longer to stay
Were but to draw eyes more attentively
Upon my shame, that power that kept you safe
From me, preserve you still.

_Arb_.

Your own desires shall be your guide.

[_Exit_ Arane.

_Pan_.

Now let me die, since I have seen my Lord the King
Return in safetie, I have seen all good that life
Can shew me; I have ne're another wish
For Heaven to grant, nor were it fit I should;
For I am bound to spend my age to come,
In giving thanks that this was granted me.

_Gob_.

Why does not your Majesty speak?

_Arb_.

To whom?

_Gob_.

To the Princess.

_Pan_.

Alas Sir, I am fearful, you do look
On me, as if I were some loathed thing
That you were finding out a way to shun.

_Gob_.

Sir, you should speak to her.

_Arb_.

Ha?

_Pan_.

I know I am unworthy, yet not ill arm'd, with which innocence
here I will kneel, till I am one with earth, but I will gain some
words and kindness from you.

_Tigr_.

Will you speak Sir?

_Arb_.

Speak, am I what I was?
What art thou that dost creep into my breast,
And dar'st not see my face? shew forth thy self:
I feel a pair of fiery wings displai'd
Hither, from hence; you shall not tarry there,
Up, and be gone, if thou beest Love be gone:
Or I will tear thee from my wounded breast,
Pull thy lov'd Down away, and