Chapter 46

_Enter_ King, Philander, Orgulius, Alcippus, Alcander, Pisaro, Cleontius, Falatius; _and Officers_.

_King_. How shall I now divide my Gratitude, Between a Son, and one that has oblig’d me, Beyond the common duty of a Subject?

_Phil_. Believe me, Sir, he merits all your Bounty, I only took example by his Actions; And all the part o’th’ Victory which I gain’d, Was but deriv’d from him.

_King_. Brave Youth, whose Infant years did bring us Conquests; And as thou grew’st to Man, thou grew’st in Glory, And hast arriv’d to such a pitch of it, As all the slothful Youth that shall succeed thee, Shall meet reproaches of thy early Actions: When Men shall say, thus did the brave _Alcippus_; And that great Name shall every Soul inspire With Emulation to arrive at something, That’s worthy of Example.

_Alcip_. I must confess I had the honour, Sir, To lead on twenty thousand fighting Men, Whom Fortune gave the Glory of the Day to. I only bid them fight, and they obey’d me; But ‘twas my Prince that taught them how to do so.

_King_. I do believe _Philander_ wants no courage; But what he did was to preserve his own. But thine the pure effects of highest Valour; For which, if ought below my Crown can recompense, Name it, and take it, as the price of it.

_Alcip_. The Duty which we pay your Majesty, Ought to be such, as what we pay the Gods; Which always bears its Recompence about it.

_King_. Yet suffer me to make thee some return, Though not for thee, yet to incourage Bravery. I know thy Soul is generous enough, To think a glorious Act rewards it self. But those who understand not so much Virtue, Will call it my neglect, and want of Gratitude; In this thy Modesty will wrong thy King. _Alcippus_, by this pause you seem to doubt My Power or Will; in both you are to blame.

_Alcip_. Your pardon, Sir; I never had a thought That could be guilty of so great a Sin. That I was capable to do you service, Was the most grateful Bounty Heaven allow’d me, And I no juster way could own that Blessing, Than to imploy the Gift for your repose.

_King_. I shall grow angry, and believe your Pride Would put the guilt off on your Modesty, Which would refuse what that believes below it.

_Phil_. Your Majesty thinks too severely of him; Permit me, Sir, to recompense his Valour, I saw the wonders on’t, and thence may guess In some Degree, what may be worthy of it.

_King_. I like it well, and till thou hast perform’d it, I will divest my self of all my Power, And give it thee, till thou hast made him great.

_Phil_. I humbly thank you, Sir--

[_Bows to the_ King, _takes the Staff from_ Orgulius, _and gives it to_ Alcippus, _who looks amazedly_.

And here I do create him General. You seem to wonder, as if I dispossess’d The brave _Orgulius_; but be pleas’d to know, Such Reverence and Respect I owe that Lord, As had himself not made it his Petition, I sooner should have parted with my Right, Than have discharg’d my debt by injuring him.

_King_. _Orgulius_, are you willing to resign it?

_Org_. With your permission, Sir, most willingly; His vigorous Youth is fitter for’t than Age, Which now has render’d me uncapable Of what that can with more success perform. My Heart and Wishes are the same they were, But Time has quite depriv’d me of that power That should assist a happy Conqueror.

_King_. Yet Time has added little to your years, Since I restor’d you to this great Command, And then you thought it not unfit for you.

_Org_. Sir, was it fit I should refuse your Grace? That was your act of Mercy: and I took it To clear my Innocence, and reform the Errors Which those receiv’d who did believe me guilty, Or that my Crimes were greater than that Mercy. I took it, Sir, in scorn of those that hated me, And now resign it to the Man you love.

_King_. We need not this proof to confirm thy Loyalty; Nor am I yet so barren of Rewards, But I can find a way, without depriving Thy noble Head of its victorious Wreaths, To crown another’s Temples.

_Org_. I humbly beg your Majesty’s consent to’t, If you believe _Alcippus_ worthy of it; The generous Youth I have bred up to Battles, Taught him to overcome, and use that Conquest As modestly as his submissive Captive, His Melancholy, (but his easy Fetters) To meet Death’s Horrors with undaunted looks: How to despise the Hardships of a Siege; To suffer Cold and Hunger, want of Sleep. Nor knew he other rest than on his Horse-back, Where he would sit and take a hearty Nap; And then too dreamt of fighting. I could continue on a day in telling The Wonders of this Warrior.

_King_. I credit all, and do submit to you. But yet _Alcippus_ seems displeas’d with it.

_Alcip_. Ah, Sir! too late I find my Confidence Has overcome my unhappy Bashfulness; I had an humbler Suit to approach you with; But this unlook’d for Honour Has soon confounded all my lesser aims, As were they not essential to my Being, I durst not name them after what y’have done.

_King_. It is not well to think my Kindness limited; This, from the Prince you hold, the next from me; Be what it will, I here declare it thine. --Upon my life, designs upon a Lady; I guess it from thy blushing. --Name her, and here thy King engages for her.

_Phi_. O Gods!--What have I done? [_Aside_.

_Alcip_. _Erminia_, Sir.-- [_Bows_.

_Phi_. I’m ruin’d.-- [_Aside_.

_King_. _Alcippus_, with her Father’s leave, she’s thine.

_Org_. Sir, ‘tis my Aim and Honour.

_Phi. Alcippus_, is’t a time to think of Weddings, When the disorder’d Troops require your Presence? You must to the Camp to morrow.

_Alcip_. You need not urge that Duty to me, Sir.

_King_. A Day or two will finish that affair, And then we’ll consummate the happy Day, When all the Court shall celebrate your Joy.

[_They all go out, but_ Alcan. Pisa, _and_ Fal.

_Pis. Falatio_, you are a swift Horseman; I believe you have a Mistress at Court, You made such haste this Morning.

_Fal_. By _Jove_, _Pisaro_, I was weary enough of the Campaign; and till I had lost sight of it, I clapt on all my Spurs-- But what ails _Alcander_?

_Pis_. What, displeas’d?

_Alcan_. It may be so, what then?

_Pis_. Then thou mayst be pleas’d again.

_Alcan_. Why the Devil should I rejoice? Because I see another rais’d above me; Let him be great, and damn’d with all his Greatness.

_Pis_. Thou mean’st _Alcippus_, who I think merits it.

_Alcan_. What is’t that thou cal’st Merit? He fought, it’s true, so did you, and I, And gain’d as much as he o’th’ Victory, But he in the Triumphal Chariot rode, Whilst we ador’d him like a Demi-God. He with the Prince an equal welcome found, Was with like Garlands, though less Merit, crown’d.

_Fal_. He’s in the right for that, by _Jove_.

_Pis_. Nay, now you wrong him.

_Alcan_. What’s he I should not speak my sense of him?

_Pis_. He is our General.

_Alcan_. What then? What is’t that he can do, which I’ll decline? Has he more Youth, more Strength, or Arms than I? Can he preserve himself i’th’ heat of the Battle? Or can he singly fight a whole Brigade? Can he receive a thousand Wounds, and live?

_Fal_. Can you or he do so?

_Alcan_. I do not say I can; but tell me then, Where be the Virtues of this mighty Man, That he should brave it over all the rest?

_Pis_. Faith, he has many Virtues, and much Courage; And merits it as well as you or I: _Orgulius_ was grown old.

_Alcan_. What then?

_Pis_. Why then he was unfit for’t, But that he had a Daughter that was young.

_Alcan_. Yes, he might have lain by, Like rusty Armour, else, Had she not brought him into play again; The Devil take her for’t.

_Fal_. By _Jove_, he’s dissatisfy’d with every thing.

_Alcan_. She has undone my Prince, And he has most unluckily disarm’d himself, And put the Sword into his Rival’s hand, Who will return it to his grateful Bosom.

_Phi_. Why, you believe _Alcippus_ honest--

_Alcan_. Yes, in your sense, _Pisaro_, But do not like the last demand he made; ’.was but an ill return upon his Prince, To beg his Mistress, rather challeng’d her.

_Pis_. His ignorance that she was so, may excuse him.

_Alcan_. The Devil ‘twill, dost think he knew it not?

_Pis. Orgulius_ still design’d him for _Erminia_; And if the Prince be disoblig’d from this, He only ought to take it ill from him.

_Alcan_. Too much, _Pisaro_, you excuse his Pride, But ‘tis the Office of a Friend to do so.

_Pis_. ‘Tis true, I am not ignorant of this, That he despises other Recompence For all his Services, but fair _Erminia_, I know ‘tis long since he resign’d his Heart, Without so much as telling her she conquer’d; And yet she knew he lov’d; whilst she, ingrate, Repay’d his Passion only with her Scorn.

_Alcan_. In loving him, she’d more ingrateful prove To her first Vows, to Reason, and to Love.

_Pis_. For that, _Alcander_, you know more than I.

_Fal_. Why sure _Aminta_ will instruct her better, She’s as inconstant as the Seas and Winds, Which ne’er are calm but to betray Adventurers.

_Alcan_. How came you by that knowledg, Sir?

_Fal_. What a Pox makes him ask me that question now? [_Aside_.

_Pis_. Prithee, _Alcander_, now we talk of her, How go the Amours ‘twixt you and my wild Sister? Can you speak yet, or do you tell your tale With Eyes and Sighs, as you were wont to do?

_Alcan_. Faith, much at that old rate, _Pisaro_, I yet have no incouragement from her To make my Court in any other language.

_Pis_. You’ll bring her to’t, she must be overcome, And you’re the fittest for her fickle Humour.

_Alcan_. Pox on’t, this Change will spoil our making Love, We must be sad, and follow the Court-Mode: My life on’t, you’ll see desperate doings here; The Eagle will not part so with his Prey; _Erminia_ was not gain’d so easily, To be resign’d so tamely.--But come, my Lord, This will not satisfy our appetites, Let’s in to Dinner, and when warm with Wine, We shall be fitter for a new Design.

[_They go out_. Fal. _stays_.

_Fal_. Now am I in a very fine condition, A comfortable one, as I take it: I have ventur’d my Life to some purpose now; What confounded luck was this, that he of all men Living, should happen to be my Rival? Well, I’ll go visit _Aminta_, and see how She receives me.-- Why, where a duce hast thou dispos’d of _Enter_ Labree. Thy self all this day? I will be bound to be Hang’d if thou hast not a hankering after Some young Wench; thou couldst never loiter Thus else; but I’ll forgive thee now, and prithee go to My Lady _Aminta’s_ Lodgings; kiss her hand From me; and tell her, I am just returned from The Campain: mark that word, Sirrah.

_Lab_. I shall, Sir, ‘tis truth.

_Fal_. Well, that’s all one; but if she should Demand any thing concerning me, (for Love’s inquisitive) dost hear? as to my Valour, or so, Thou understand’st me; tell her I acted as a man that pretends to the glory of Serving her.

_Lab_. I warrant you, Sir, for a Speech.

_Fal_. Nay, thou mayst speak as well too much As too little; have a care of that, dost hear? And if she ask what Wounds I have, dost mind me? Tell her I have many, very many.

_Lab_. But whereabouts, Sir?

_Fal_. Let me see--let me see; I know not where To place them--I think in my Face.

_Lab_. By no means, Sir, you had much better Have them in your Posteriors: for then the Ladies Can never disprove you; they’ll not look there.

_Fal_. The sooner, you Fool, for the Rarity on’t.

_Lab_. Sir, the Novelty is not so great, I assure you.

_Fal_. Go to, y’are wicked; But I will have them in my Face.

_Lab_. With all my heart, Sir, but how?

_Fal_. I’ll wear a patch or two there, and I’ll Warrant you for pretending as much as any man; And who, you Fool, shall know the fallacy?

_Lab_. That, Sir, will all that know you, both in the Court and Camp.

_Fal_. Mark me, _Labree_, once for all; if thou takest Delight continually thus to put me in mind of My want of Courage, I shall undoubtedly Fall foul on thee, and give thee most fatal proofs Of more than thou expectest.

_Lab_. Nay, Sir, I have done, and do believe ‘tis only I dare say you are a man of Prowess.

_Fal_. Leave thy simple fancies, and go about thy business.

_Lab_. I am gone; but hark, my Lord, If I should say your Face were wounded, The Ladies would fear you had lost your Beauty.

_Fal_. O, never trouble your head for that, _Aminta_ Is a Wit, and your Wits care not how ill-favour’d Their Men be, the more ugly the better.

_Lab_. An’t be so, you’ll fit them to a hair.

_Fal_. Thou art a Coxcomb, to think a man of my Quality needs the advantage of Handsomness: A trifle as insignificant as Wit or Valour; poor Nothings, which Men of Fortune ought to despise.

_Lab_. Why do you then keep such a stir, to gain The reputation of this thing you so despise?

_Fal_. To please the peevish humour of a Woman, Who in that point only is a Fool.

_Lab_. You had a Mistress once, if you have not Forgotten her, who would have taken you with All these faults.

_Fal_. There was so; but she was poor, that’s the Devil, I could have lov’d her else. --But go thy ways; what dost thou muse on?

_Lab_. Faith, Sir, I am only fearful you will never Pass with those Patches you speak of.

_Fal_. Thou never-to-be-reclaim’d Ass, shall I never Bring thee to apprehend as thou ought’st? I tell thee, I will pass and repass, where and how I please; Know’st thou not the difference yet, between a Man Of Money and Titles, and a Man of only Parts, As they call them? poor Devils of no Mein nor Garb: Well, ‘tis a fine and frugal thing, this Honour, It covers a multitude of Faults: Even Ridicule in one of us is a-la-mode. But I detain thee; go haste to _Aminta_.

[_Exeunt severally_.