Phi.  Force the bold Ravisher to resign my Right. Alcander, is not she my Wife, and I his Prince?

Alcan.  ’Tis true, Sir:  And y’ave both power and justice on your side; And there are times to exercise ’em both.

Phi.  Fitter than this, Alcander?

Alcan.  This night Erminia’s Promise may repose you;
To morrow is your own—­
Till then I beg you’d think your interest safe.

Phi.  Alcander, thou hast peace about thee, and canst judge
Better than I, ’twixt what is just and fit.
                                        [Puts up his Sword. 
I hitherto believ’d my Flame was guided
By perfect Reason:  so we often find
Vessels conducted by a peaceful Wind,
And meet no opposition in their way,
Cut a safe passage through the flattering Sea: 
But when a Storm the bounding Vessel throws,
It does each way with equal rage oppose;
For when the Seas are mad, could that be calm
Like me, it wou’d be ruin’d in the Storm.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The apartments of Alcippus.

Enter Alcippus and Pisaro.

Pis.  ’Tis much, my Lord, you’ll not be satisfy’d.

Alcip.  Friendship’s too near a-kin to Love, Pisaro,
To leave me any Peace, whilst in your Eyes
I read Reserves, which ’tis not kind to hide;
—­Come, prithee tell me what the quarrel was,
And who ’twas with; thou shalt, my dear Pisaro.

Pis.  Nay, now you urge me to impossibility:  Good faith, I cannot tell, but guess the Prince.

Alcip.  ’Tis true, Pisaro, ’twas indeed the Prince.  But what was th’occasion?

Pis.  He call’d me Spy, and I return’d th’affront,
But took no notice that he was my Prince: 
It was a Folly I repented of;
But ’twas in a damn’d melancholy Mood.

Alcip.  Was it a going in or coming out?

Pis.  From whence?

Alcip.  Erminia’s Chamber; prithee let me know,
For I have fears that take away my sleep,
Fears that will make me mad, stark mad, Pisaro.

Pis.  You do not well to fear without a cause.

Alcip.  O Friend, I saw what thou canst ne’er conceive;
Last night I saw it when I came from thee: 
And if thou go’st about t’impose upon me,
I’ll cast thee from my Soul.  Come out with it,
I see thy breast heave with a generous ardour,
As if it scorn’d to harbour a reserve,
Which stood not with its Amity to me. 
Could I but know my Fate, I could despise it: 
But when ’tis clad in Robes of Innocence,
The Devil cannot ’scape it:  Something
Was done last night that gnaws my heart-strings;
And many things the Princess too let fall,
Which, Gods!  I know not how to put together. 
And prithee be not thou a Ridler too: 
But if thou knew’st of ought that may concern me,
Make me as wise as thou art.