_Pis_. Ha! who’s that? a Lover, on my life, This amorous malady reigns every where; Nor can my Sister be an ignorant Of what I saw this night in _Galatea_: I’ll question her--Sister, _Aminta_, Sister. [_Calls as at her Lodgings_. _Enter_ Lysette. _Lys_. Who calls my Lady? _Pis_. Where’s my Sister? _Lys_. I cry your Lordship’s mercy; My Lady lies not in her Lodgings to night; The Princess sent for her, Her Highness is not well. [_She goes in_. _Pis_. I do believe it, good night, _Lysette_. _Enter a_ Page. --Who’s there? _Page_. Your Lordship’s Page. _Pis_. Where hast thou been? I wanted thee but now. _Page_. I fell asleep i’th’ Lobby, Sir, and had not waken’d Yet, but for the Musick which plays at the Lodgings Of my Lady _Erminia_. _Pis_. Curse on them; will they not allow him nights to himself; ‘tis hard. This night I’m wiser grown by observation, My Love and Friendship taught me jealousy, Which like a cunning Spy brought in intelligence From every eye less wary than its own; They told me that the charming _Galatea_, In whom all power remains, Is yet too feeble to encounter Love; I find she has receiv’d the wanton God, Maugre my fond opinion of her Soul. And ‘tis my Friend too that’s become my Rival. I saw her lovely Eyes still turn on him, As Flowers to th’.un: and when he turn’d away Like those she bow’d her charming head again. --On th’other side the Prince with dying looks Each motion watch’d of fair _Erminia’s_ eyes, Which she return’d as greedily again, And if one glance t’ _Alcippus_ she directed, He’d stare as if he meant to cut his throat for’t. _Well, Friend, thou hast a sure defence of me, My Love is yet below my Amity_. [_Ex_. SCENE VI. _Draws off, discovers_ Philander_ and_ Alcander _with Musick at the Chamber-door of_ Erminia; _to them_ Pisaro, _who listens whilst the Song is sung_. The Song for the _Page_ to sing at _Erminia’s_ Chamber-door. Amintas _that true-hearted Swain Upon a River’s bank was laid, Where to the pitying streams he did complain Of_ Sylvia _that false charming Maid, But she was still regardless of his pain: Oh faithless_ Sylvia! _would he cry, And what he said the Echoes would reply_. Be kind or else I die, _E_. I die. Be kind or else I die, _E_. I die. _A shower of tears his eyes let fall, Which in the River made impress, Then sigh’d, and_ Sylvia _false again would call, A cruel faithless Shepherdess. Is Love with you become a criminal? Ah lay aside this needless scorn, Allow your poor Adorer some return_, Consider how I burn, _E_. I burn. Consider, &c.