Gal.  Erminia, e’er you boast of what you are,
Since you’re so high I’ll tell you what you were: 
Your Father was our General ’tis true,
That Title justly to his Sword was due;
’Twas nobly gain’d, and worth his Blood and Toils,
Had he been satisfied with noble Spoils: 
But with that single honour not content,
He needs must undermine the Government;
And ’cause h’ad gain’d the Army to his side,
Believ’d his Treason must be justify’d. 
For this (and justly) he was banished;
Where whilst a low and unknown life he led,
Far from the hope and glory of a Throne,
In a poor humble Cottage you were born;
Your early Beauty did it self display,
Nor could no more conceal it self than Day: 
Your Eyes did first Philander’s Soul inspire,
And Fortune too conform’d her to his fire. 
That made your Father greater than before,
And what he justly lost that did restore. 
’Twas that which first thy Beauty did disclose,
Which else had wither’d like an unseen Rose;
’Twas that which brought thee to the Court, and there
Dispos’d thee next my self, i’th’ highest Sphere: 
Alas, obscurely else thou’dst liv’d and died,
Not knowing thy own Charms, nor yet this Pride.

Er.  Madam, in this your Bounty is severe,
Be pleas’d to spare that repetition here. 
I hope no Action of my Life should be
So rude to charge your Generosity: 
But, Madam, do you think it just to pay
Your great Obligements by so false a way?
Alcippus’ Passion merits some return,
And should that prove but an ingrateful scorn? 
Alas, I am his Wife; to disobey,
My Fame as well as Duty I betray.

Gal.  Perfidious Maid, I might have thought thou’dst prove
False to thy Prince, and Rival in my Love. 
I thought too justly he that conquer’d me
Had a sufficient power to captive thee;
Thou’st now reveng’d thy Father’s shame and thine,
In taking thus Philander’s Life and mine.

[Er. weeps.

Er.  Ah, Madam, that you would believe my tears,
Or from my Vows but satisfy your Fears. 
By all the Gods, Alcippus I do hate,
And would do any thing to change my fate;
Ought that were just and noble I dare do.

Gal.  Enough, Erminia, I must credit you,
And will no other proof of it require,
But that you’ll now submit to my desire;
Indeed, Erminia, you must grant my suit,
Where Love and Honour calls, make no dispute. 
Pity a Youth that never lov’d before,
Remember ’tis a Prince that does adore;
Who offers up a Heart that never found
It could receive, till from your Eyes, a wound.

Er.  To your command should I submit to yield, Where could I from Alcippus be conceal’d?  What could defend me from his jealous Rage?

Gal.  Trust me, Erminia, I’ll for that engage.