Pis.  I will not trust you though.

[Goes out another way.

SCENE III. The Court Gallery.

Enter Philander and Alcander in their Clokes
muffled as in the dark.

Alcan. Isillia.
              [Calls at the lodgings of Erminia.

Isil. [Entering.] Who’s there?

Alcan.  A Friend.

Isil.  My Lord Alcander?

Alcan.  The same.

Isil.  Where’s the Prince?

Phi.  Here, Isillia.

Isil.  Give me your hand, my Lord, and follow me.

Phi.  To such a Heaven as thou conduct’st me to, Though thou should’st traverse Hell, I’d follow thee.

Alcan.  You’ll come back in charity, Isillia?

Isil.  Yes, if I dare trust you alone with me.

[They go all in.

SCENE IV.

Draws off, a Chamber, discovers Erminia in a dishabit, sitting;
to her Philander, who falls at her feet, on his knees.

Er.  My Lord the Prince, what makes your Highness here?

Phi.  Erminia, why do ask that needless question? 
’Twas Love, Love that’s unsatisfied, which brought me hither.
          
                                            [Kneels.

Er.  Rise, Sir, this posture would become me better.

Phi.  Permit me, dear Erminia—­to remain thus. 
’Tis only by these signs I can express
What my Confusion will not let me utter. 
I know not what strange power thou bear’st about thee,
But at thy sight or touch my Sense forsakes me,
And that, withal I had design’d to say,
Turns to a strange disorder’d Rapture in me. 
—­Oh Erminia—­

Er.  How do you, Sir?

Phi.  I am not well;
Too suddenly I pass from one extreme
To this of Joy, more insupportable: 
But I shall re-assume my health anon,
And tell thee all my story.

Er.  Dear Sir, retire into this inner room,
And there repose awhile: 
Alas, I see disorder in your Face.

Phi.  This confidence of me, is generous in thee.

[They go into the Scene which draws over.

SCENE V. The Court Gallery.

Enter Alcippus.

Alcip.  The Night is calm and silent as my Thoughts,
Where nothing now but Love’s soft whispers dwell;
Who in as gentle terms upbraids my Rage,
Which strove to dispossess the Monarch thence: 
It tells me how dishonest all my Fears are,
And how ungrateful all my Jealousies;
And prettily persuades those Infidels
To be less rude and mutinous hereafter. 
Ah, that I could remain in this same state,
And be contented with this Monarchy: