[Ex.

SCENE III.

    Enter Alcippus and Erminia, as in a Bed-Chamber.

Alcip.  But still methinks, Erminia, you are sad,
A heaviness appears in those fair Eyes,
As if your Soul were agitating something
Contrary to the pleasure of this night.

Er.  You ought in Justice, Sir, t’excuse me here,
Prisoners when first committed are less gay,
Than when they’re us’d to Fetters every day,
But yet in time they will more easy grow.

Alcip.  You strangely bless me in but saying so.

Er.  Alcippus, I’ve an humble suit to you.

Alcip.  All that I have is so intirely thine,
And such a Captive thou hast made my Will,
Thou needst not be at the expence of wishing
For what thou canst desire that I may grant;
Why are thy Eyes declin’d?

Er.  To satisfy a little modest scruple; I beg you would permit me, Sir—­

Alcip.  To lie alone to night, is it not so, Erminia?

Er.  It is—­

Alcip.  That’s too severe, yet I will grant it thee?  But why, Erminia, must I grant it thee?

Er.  The Princess, Sir, questions my Power, and says, I cannot gain so much upon your Goodness.

Alcip.  I could have wish’d some other had oblig’d thee to’t.

Er.  You would not blame her if you knew her reason.

Alcip.  Indeed I do not much, for I can guess
She takes the party of the Prince her Brother;
And this is only to delay those Joys,
Which she perhaps believes belong to him. 
—­But that, Erminia, you can best resolve;
And ’tis not kindly done to hide a truth,
The Prince so clearly own’d.

Er.  What did he own?

Alcip.  He said, Erminia, that you were his Wife;
If so, no wonder you refuse my Bed:  [She weeps. 
The Presence of the King hinder’d my knowledge,
Of what I willingly would learn from you;
—­Come, ne’er deny a truth that plain appears;
I see Hypocrisy through all your Tears.

Er.  You need not ask me to repeat again,
A Knowledge which, you say, appears so plain: 
The Prince his word methinks should credit get,
Which I’ll confirm whene’er you call for it: 
My heart before you ask’t it, was his prize,
And cannot twice become a Sacrifice.

Alcip.  Erminia, is this brave or just in you,
To pay his score of Love with what’s my due? 
What’s your design to treat me in this sort? 
Are sacred Vows of Marriage made your sport? 
Regard me well, Erminia, what am I?

Er.  One, Sir, with whom, I’m bound to live and die,
And one to whom, by rigorous command,
I gave (without my Heart) my unwilling Hand.