_Alcip_. It cannot be, and yet methinks I give A strange and sudden credit to this Spirit, It beckon'd me into another room; I'll follow it, and know its business there. [_Aside_.
_Pis_. Come, Sir, I am a kind of Prophet, And can interpret Dreams too.
We'll walk a while, and you shall tell me all, And then I would advise you what to do.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE III. _The King's Chamber_.
_Enter_ Philander _with the_ King.
_King_. Thou'st entertain'd me with a pretty Story, And call'd up so much Nature to thy Cause, That I am half subjected to its Laws; I find thy lovely Mother plead within too, And bids me put no force upon thy Will; Tells me thy Flame should be as unconfin'd As that we felt when our two Souls combin'd.
Alas, _Philander_, I am old and feeble, And cannot long survive: But thou hast many Ages yet to number Of Youth and Vigour; and should all be wasted In the Embraces of an unlov'd Maid?
No, my _Philander_, if that after death Ought could remain to me of this World's Joys, I should remember none with more delight, Than those of having left thee truly happy.
_Phi_. This Goodness, Sir, resembles that of Heaven, Preserving what it made, and can be paid Only with grateful Praise as we do that.
_King_. Go, carry on your innocent design, And when you've done, the last act shall be mine.
[_Exeunt_
SCENE IV. _The Court Gallery_.
_Enter_ Aminta _followed by_ Alcander, Erminia _and_ Galatea; _they go out: re-enter_ Alcander, _and stays_ Aminta.
_Alcan_. Stay, dear _Aminta_, do not fly so fast.
_Am_. Methinks, _Alcander_, you should shun that Maid, Of whose too much of kindness you're afraid.
'Twas not long since you parted in such feud, And swore my treatment of you was too rude; You vow'd you found no Beauty in my eyes, And can you now pursue what you despise? [_Offers to go_.
_Alcan_. Nay, do not leave me yet, for still your Scorn Much better than your Absence may be borne.
_Am_. Well, Sir, your business, for mine requires haste.
_Alcan_. Say, fair _Aminta_, shall I never find You'll cease this Rigour, and be kind?
Will that dear Breast no Tenderness admit?
And shall the Pain you give no Pity get?
Will you be never touch'd with what I say?
And shall my Youth and Vows be thrown away?
You know my Passion and my Humour too, And how I die, though do not tell you so.
_Am_. What arguments will you produce to prove You love? for yet I'll not believe you love.
_Alcan_. Since, fair _Aminta_, I did thee adore, Alas, I am not what I was before: My Thoughts disorder'd from my Heart do break; And Sighs destroy my Language when I speak.
My Liberty and my Repose I gave, To be admitted but your Slave; And can you question such a Victory?
Or must I suffer more to make it sure?
It needs not, since these Languishments can be Nought but the Wounds which you alone can cure.
_Am. Alcander_, you so many Vows have paid, So many Sighs and Tears to many a Maid, That should I credit give to what you say, I merit being undone as well as they.
--No, no, _Alcander_, I'll no more of that.
_Alcan_. Farewel, _Aminta_, mayst thou want a Lover, When I shall hate both thee and thy whole Sex; I can endure your sober Cruelty, But do despise it clad in Jollity.
[_Exeunt severally_.
SCENE V.
_Discovers a Room hung with Black, a Hearse standing in it with Tapers round about it_, Alcippus _weeping at it, with_ Isillia, _and other Women with long black Veils round about the Hearse_.
_Isil_. I humbly beg, my Lord, you would forbear.
_Alcip_. Oh _Isillia_, Thou knowest not what vast Treasure this incloses, This sacred Pile; is there no Sorrow due to it?
Alas, I bad her not farewel at parting.
Nor did receive so much as one poor Kiss.
--Ah wretched, wretched Man!
_Enter the_ Prince.
How, the Prince!
How suddenly my Grief submits to Rage.
_Phi. Alcippus_, why dost thou gaze thus on me?
What Horror have I in my looks that frights thee?
_Alcip_. Why, Sir, what makes you here?
I have no more Wives, no more _Erminias_; Alas, she is dead-- Will you not give her leave to rest in peace?
_Phi_. Is this the Gratitude you pay my Favours, That gave ye life, after your wrongs to me?
But 'twas my Sister's Kindness that preserv'd thee And I prefer'd my Vengeance to the Gods.
_Alcip_. Your Sister is a Saint whom I adore; But I refuse a Life that comes from you.
_Isil_. What mean you, Sir?
_Alcip_. To speak a truth, as dying Men should do.
_Phi. Alcippus_, for my Sister's sake who loves you, I can bear more than this--you know my power, And I can make you fear. [_Offers to go out_.
_Alcip_. No, Prince, not whilst I am in love with dying.
_Phi_. Your love to that I see has made you impudent.