_Ser._ I bring you, sir, most glad and welcome news: The young Chamont, whom you've so often wished for, Is just arrived and entering. _Acast._ By my soul, And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome; Let me receive him like his father's friend. _Enter_ CHAMONT. Welcome, thou relict of the best-loved man! Welcome from all the turmoils, and the hazards Of certain danger, and uncertain fortune! Welcome as happy tidings after fears! _Cham._ Words would but wrong the gratitude I owe you. Should I begin to speak, my soul's so full That I should talk of nothing else all day. _Mon._ My brother! _Cham._ Oh my sister! let me hold thee Long in my arms. I've not beheld thy face These many days; by night I've often seen thee In gentle dreams, and satisfied my soul With fancied joy, till morning cares awaked me.-- Another sister! sure it must be so; Though, I remember well, I had but one: But I feel something in my heart that prompts And tells me she has claim and interest there. _Acast._ Young soldier, you've not only studied war; Courtship, I see, has been your practice too, And may not prove unwelcome to my daughter. _Cham._ Is she your daughter? then my heart told true! And I'm at least her brother by adoption; For you have made yourself to me a father, And by that patent I have leave to love her. _Ser._ Monimia, thou hast told me men are false, Will flatter, feign, and make an art of love: Is Chamont so? No, sure he's more than man, Something that's near divine, and truth dwells in him. _Acast._ Thus happy, who would envy pompous power, The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities? Let there be joy through all the house this day; In every room let plenty flow at large; It is the birth-day of my royal master. You have not visited the court, Chamont, Since your return? _Cham._ I have no business there; I have not slavish temperance enough To attend a favourite's heels, and watch his smiles; Bear an ill office done me to my face, And thank the lord that wronged me for his favour. _Acast._ This you could do. [_To_ CASTALIO _and_ POLYDORE. _Cast._ I'd serve my prince. _Acast._ Who'd serve him? _Cast._ I would, my lord. _Pol._ And I; both would. _Acast._ Away! He needs not any servants such as you. Serve him! he merits more than man can do: He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth; So merciful, sure he ne'er slept in wrath; So just, that were he but a private man, He could not do a wrong. How would you serve him? _Cast._ I'd serve him with my fortune here at home, And serve him with my person in his wars; Watch for him, fight for him, bleed for him. _Pol._ Die for him, As every true-born loyal subject ought.