In whom all power remains,
Is yet too feeble to encounter Love;
I find she has receiv’d the wanton God,
Maugre my fond opinion of her Soul. 
And ’tis my Friend too that’s become my Rival. 
I saw her lovely Eyes still turn on him,
As Flowers to th’Sun:  and when he turn’d away
Like those she bow’d her charming head again. 
—­On th’other side the Prince with dying looks
Each motion watch’d of fair Erminia’s eyes,
Which she return’d as greedily again,
And if one glance t’ Alcippus she directed,
He’d stare as if he meant to cut his throat for’t.

  Well, Friend, thou hast a sure defence of me,
  My Love is yet below my Amity.

[Ex.

SCENE VI. Draws off, discovers Philander_ and_ Alcander with Musick at the Chamber-door of Erminia; to them Pisaro, who listens whilst the Song is sung.

The Song for the Page to sing at Erminia’s Chamber-door.

  Amintas that true-hearted Swain
  Upon a River’s bank was laid,
  Where to the pitying streams he did complain
  Of Sylvia that false charming Maid,
  But she was still regardless of his pain: 
  Oh faithless Sylvia! would he cry,
  And what he said the Echoes would reply. 
    Be kind or else I die, E.  I die. 
    Be kind or else I die, E.  I die.

  A shower of tears his eyes let fall,
  Which in the River made impress,
  Then sigh’d, and Sylvia false again would call,
  A cruel faithless Shepherdess. 
  Is Love with you become a criminal? 
  Ah lay aside this needless scorn,
  Allow your poor Adorer some return,
    Consider how I burn, E.  I burn. 
    Consider, &c.

  Those Smiles and Kisses which you give. 
  Remember, Sylvia, are my due;
  And all the Joys my Rival does receive
  He ravishes from me, not you. 
  Ah Sylvia, can I live and this believe? 
  Insensibles are touched to see
  My languishments, and seem to pity me. 
    Which I demand of thee, E. of thee,
    Which I demand, &c.

Pis.  What’s all this?

Phi.  Who’s there?

Pis.  A Man, a Friend to the General.

Phi.  Then thou’rt an Enemy to all good Men.  Does the ungrateful Wretch hide his own head, And send his Spies abroad?

Pis.  He is too great to fear, and needs them not:  And him thou termest so, scorns the Office too.

Phi.  What makest thou here then, when the whole World’s asleep?  Be gone, there lies thy way, where’er thy business be.

Pis.  It lies as free for thee, and here’s my business.

Phi.  Thou lyest, rude man.

Pis.  Why, what art thou darest tell me so i’th’ dark?  Day had betray’d thy blushes for this Boldness.