Pis.  You do forget your promise, and this Presence.
                                            [Aside to Alcip.

Alcip.  ’Twas kindly urg’d, prithee be near me still, And tell me of the faults that look unmanly.

Gal.  Dear, if thou lov’st me, flatter him a little.
                                          [To Er. aside.

Er.  ’Tis hard to do, yet I will try it, Madam.

Gal.  I’ll leave you, that you may the better do so. 
—­I hope, Alcippus, you’ll revisit us
With Lover’s speed: 
And whatsoever treatment now you find,
At your return you’ll find us much more kind.
                                   [He bows, she goes out.

Alcip.  Can you forgive the rashness of a Man, That knows no other Laws but those of Passion?

Er.  You are unkind to think I do not, Sir;
—­Yes, and am grown so softned by my pity,
That I’m afraid I shall neglect my Vows,
And to return your Passion, grow ingrate.

Alcip.  A few more syllables express’d like these, Will raise my Soul up to the worst extreme, And give me with your Scorn an equal torment.

Er.  See what power your language has upon me. [Weeps.

Alcip.  Ah, do not weep, a tear or two’s enough
For the Completion of your Cruelty,
That when it fail’d to exercise your will,
Sent those more powerful Weapons from your Eyes,
And what by your severity you mist of,
These (but a more obliging way) perform. 
Gently, Erminia, pour the Balsam in,
That I may live, and taste the sweets of Love. 
—­Ah, should you still continue, as you are,
Thus wondrous good, thus excellently fair,
I should retain my growing name in War,
And all the Glories I have ventur’d for,
And fight for Crowns to recompense thy Bounty. 
—­This can your Smiles; but when those Beams are clouded,
Alas, I freeze to very Cowardice,
And have not Courage left to kill my self.

Er.  A Fate more glorious does that Life attend, And does preserve you for a nobler end.

Alcip.  Erminia, do not sooth my easy Heart,
For thou my Fate, and thou my Fortune art;
Whatever other blessings Heaven design,
Without my dear Erminia, I’ll decline. 
Yet, Madam, let me hope before I go,
In pity that you ought to let me do: 
’Tis all you shall allow m’impatient heart.

Er.  That’s what against my will I must impart:  But wish it please the Gods, when next we meet, We might as Friends, and not as Lovers greet.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Palace.

Enter Galatea and Aminta, met by Philander and Alcander.

Phi.  So hasty, Sister!