_Phi_. ‘Tis well; and Sister, Whilst I persuade _Erminia_ to this flight, Make it your business to persuade the King, Hang on his neck, and kiss his willing cheek: Tell him how much you love him, and then smile, And mingle Words with Kisses; ‘twill o’ercome him Thou hast a thousand pretty Flatteries, Which have appeas’d his highest fits of Passion: A Song from thee has won him to that rest, Which neither Toil nor Silence could dispose him to. Thou know’st thy power, and now or never use it. _Gal_. ‘Twas thither I was going. _Phi_. May’st thou be prosperous. [_Exeunt_ Phi. _and_ Gal. Aminta _and_ Alcander _stay_. _Am_. What now, _Alcander_? _Alcan_. As ‘twas, _Aminta_. _Am_. How’s that? _Alcan_. Such a distracted Lover as you left me. _Am_. Such as I found you too, I fear, _Alcander_. _Alcan_. Ah, Madam, do not wrong me so; Till now I never knew the joys and sorrows That do attend a Soul in love like mine: My Passion only fits the Object now; I hate to tell you so, ‘tis a poor low means To gain a Mistress by, of so much wit: _Aminta_, you’re above that common rate Of being won. Mean Beauties should be flatter’d into praise, Whilst you need only Sighs from every Lover, To tell you who you conquer, and not how, Nor to instruct you what attracts you have. _Am_. This will not serve to convince me, But you have lov’d before. _Alcan_. And will you never quit that error, Madam? _Am_. ‘Tis what I’ve reason to believe, _Alcander_, And you can give me none for loving me: I’m much unlike _Lucinda_ whom you sigh’d for, I’m not so coy, nor so reserv’d as she; Nor so designing as _Florana_ your next Saint, Who starv’d you up with hope, till you grew weary; And then _Ardelia_ did restore that loss, The little soft _Ardelia_, kind and fair too. _Alcan_. You think you’re wondrous witty now, _Aminta_, But hang me if you be. _Am_. Indeed, _Alcander_, no, ‘tis simple truth: Then for your bouncing Mistress, long _Brunetta_, O that majestick Garb, ‘tis strangely taking, That scornful Look, and Eyes that strike all dead That stand beneath them. _Alcander_, I have none of all these Charms: But well, you say you love me; could you be Content to dismiss these petty sharers in your Heart, And give it all to me; on these conditions I may do much. _Alcan. Aminta_, more perhaps than I may like. _Am_. Do not fear that, _Alcander_. _Alcan_. Your Jealousy incourages that Fear. _Am_. If I be so, I’m the fitter for your humour. _Alcan_. That’s another reason for my fears; that ill-Luck owes us a spite, and will be sure to pay us with loving one another, a thought I dread. Farewel, _Aminta_; when I can get loose from _Ardelia_, I may chance wait on you, till then your own Pride be your Companion. [_Holds him_. _Am_. Nay, you shall not go, _Alcander_.