_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. ’.was 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.