Alcan.  I never heard of any that were so, For though the will to do’t, and power they want, They love to hear of what they cannot grant.

Phi.  No more,
Is this your duty to your Prince, Alcander? 
You were not wont to counsel thus amiss,
’Tis either Disrespect or some Design;
I could be wondrous angry with thee now,
But that my Grief has such possession here,
’Twill make no room for Rage.

Alcan.  I cannot, Sir, repent of what I’ve said,
Since all the errors which I have committed
Are what my passion to your interest led me to,
But yet I beg your Highness would recal
That sense which would persuade you ’tis unjust.

Phi.  Name it no more, and I’ll forgive it thee.

Alcan.  I can obey you, Sir.

Phi.  What shall we do to night, I cannot sleep.

Alcan.  I’m good at watching, and doing any thing.

Phi.  We’ll serenade the Ladies and the Bride.  —­The first we may disturb, but she I fear Keeps watch with me to night, though not like me.

    Enter a Page of the Prince’s.

Phi.  How now, Boy, Is the Musick ready which I spoke for?

Page.  They wait your Highness’s command.

Phi.  Bid them prepare, I’m coming. [Ex.  Page. 
Soft touches may allay the Discords here,
And sweeten, though not lessen my Despair.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. The Court Gallery.

    Enter Pisaro alone.

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,