_Er. Alcippus_, you this language will forbear, When you shall know how powerful you are; For whilst you here endeavour to subdue, The best of Women languishes for you. _Alcip. Erminia_, do not mock my misery, For though you cannot love, yet pity me; That you allow my Passion no return, Is weight enough, you need not add your Scorn, In this your Cruelty is too severe. _Er. Alcippus_, you mistake me every where. _Alcip_. To whom, _Erminia_, do I owe this Fate? _Er_. To morrow all her story I’ll relate. Till then the promise I the Princess made, I beg you would permit might be obey’d. _Alcip_. You, Madam, with so many charms assail, You need not question but you shall prevail; Thy power’s not lessen’d in thy being mine, But much augmented in my being thine, The glory of my chains may raise me more, But I am still that Slave I was before. [_Exeunt severally_. SCENE IV. Philander’s _Bed-chamber_. _Enter_ Philander _and_ Alcander. [_The Prince half undrest_. _Phi_. What’s a Clock, _Alcander_? _Alcan_. ‘Tis midnight, Sir, will you not go to bed? _Phi_. To bed, Friend; what to do? _Alcan_. To sleep, Sir, as you were wont to do. _Phi_. Sleep, and _Erminia_ have abandon’d me; I’ll never sleep again. _Alcan_. This is an humour, Sir, you must forsake. _Phi_. Never, never, oh _Alcander_. Dost know where my _Erminia_ lies to night? _Alcan_. I guess, Sir. _Phi_. Where? Nay, prithee speak, Indeed I shall not be offended at it. _Alcan_. I know not why you should, Sir; She’s where she ought, abed with young _Alcippus_. _Phi_. Thou speak’st thy real Thoughts. _Alcan_. Why should your Highness doubt it? _Phi_. By Heaven, there is no faith in Woman-kind; _Alcander_, dost thou know an honest Woman? _Alcan_. Many, Sir. _Phi_. I do not think it, ‘tis impossible; _Erminia_, if it could have been, were she, But she has broke her Vows, which I held sacred, And plays the wanton in another’s arms. _Alcan_. Sir, do you think it just to wrong her so? _Phi_. Oh, would thou couldst persuade me that I did so. Thou know’st the Oaths and Vows she made to me, Never to marry other than my self, And you, _Alcander_, wrought me to believe them. But now her Vows to marry none but me, Are given to _Alcippus_, and in his bosom breath’d, With balmy whispers, whilst the ravisht Youth For every syllable returns a kiss, And in the height of all his extasy, _Philander’s_ dispossess’d and quite forgotten. Ah, charming Maid, is this your Love to me? Yet now thou art no Maid, nor lov’st not me, And I the fool to let thee know my weakness. _Alcan_. Why do you thus proceed to vex your self? To question what you list, and answer what you please? Sir, this is not the way to be at ease. _Phi_. Ah, dear _Alcander_, what would’st have me do? _Alcan_. Do that which may preserve you; Do that which every Man in love would do; Make it your business to possess the object. _Phi_. What meanest thou, is she not married?--