Acas. Not to be found? then where are all my friends? 'Tis well— I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault My unmannerly infirmity has made! Death could not come in a more welcome hour; For I'm prepar'd to meet him; and, methinks, Would live and die with all my friends about me. Enter Castalio. Cas. Angels preserve my dearest father's life! Oh! may he live till time itself decay, Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him! Acas. Thank you, Castalio: give me both your hands. So now, methinks, I appear as great as Hercules himself, Supported by the pillars he has rais'd. Enter Serina. Ser. My father! Acas. My heart's darling! Ser. Let my knees Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest, But wake and weep, till heaven restore my father. Acas. Rise to my arms, and thy kind pray'rs are answer'd. For thou'rt a wondrous extract of all goodness; Born for my joy, and no pain's felt when near thee. Chamont! Enter Chamont. Cham. My lord, may't prove not an unlucky omen! Many I see are waiting round about you, And I am come to ask a blessing too. Acas. May'st thou be happy! Cham. Where? Acas. In all thy wishes. Cham. Confirm me so, and make this fair one mine: I am unpractis'd in the trade of courtship, And know not how to deal love out with art: Onsets in love seem best like those in war, Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force; So I would open my whole heart at once, And pour out the abundance of my soul. Acas. What says Serina? canst thou love a soldier? One born to honour, and to honour bred? One that has learn'd to treat e'en foes with kindness, To wrong no good man's fame, nor praise himself? Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's ally'd to joy; And joy must be a stranger to my heart, When you're in danger. May Chamont's good fortune Render him lovely to some happier maid! Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest, Praise the kind gods, and wonder at his virtues. Acas. Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and possess her, And, as my son, a third of all my fortune Shall be thy lot. Chamont, you told me of some doubts that press'd you: Are you yet satisfy'd that I'm your friend? Cham. My lord, I would not lose that satisfaction, For any blessing I could wish for: As to my fears, already I have lost them: They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you. Acas. I thank you. My friends, 'tis late: Now my disorder seems all past and over, And I, methinks, begin to feel new health. Cas. Would you but rest, it might restore you quite. Acas. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour weakness. Good night, my friends! Heaven guard you all! Good night! To-morrow early we'll salute the day, Find out new pleasures, and renew lost time. [exeunt all but Chamont and Chaplain. Cham. If you're at leisure, sir, we'll waste an hour: 'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and t'will be charity