Chapter 48

_Enter_ Orgulius, Erminia _weeping, and_ Isillia.

_Er_. Sir, does your fatal resolution hold?

_Org_. Away, away, you are a foolish Girl, And look with too much pride upon your Beauty; Which like a gaudy flower that springs too soon, Withers e’er fully blown. Your very Tears already have betray’d Its weak inconstant nature; _Alcippus_, should he look upon thee now, would swear thou wert not that fine thing he lov’d.

_Er_. Why should that blessing turn to my despair? Curse on his Faith that told him I was fair.

_Org_. ‘Tis strange to me you shou’d despise this Fortune, I always thought you well inclin’d to love him, I would not else have thus dispos’d of you.

_Er_. I humbly thank you, Sir, though’t be too late, And wish you yet would try to change my Fate; What to _Alcippus_ you did Love believe, Was such a Friendship as might well deceive; ’.was what kind Sisters do to Brothers pay; _Alcippus_ I can love no other way. --Sir, lay the Interest of a Father by, And give me leave this Lover to deny.

_Org. Erminia_, thou art young, and canst not see The advantage of the Fortune offer’d thee.

_Er_. Alas, Sir, there is something yet behind. [_Sighs_.

_Org_. What is’t, _Erminia_? freely speak thy mind.

_Er_. Ah, Sir, I dare not, you inrag’d will grow.

_Org. Erminia_, you have seldom found me so; If no mean Passion have thy Soul possest, Be what it will I can forgive the rest.

_Er_. No, Sir, it is no crime, or if it be, Let Prince _Philander_ make the Peace for me; He ‘twas that taught the Sin (if Love be such.)

_Org. Erminia_, peace, he taught you then too much.

_Er_. Nay, Sir, you promis’d me you wou’d not blame My early Love, if ‘twere a noble Flame.

_Org_. Than this a more unhappy could not be; Destroy it, or expect to hear of me. [_Offers to go out_.

_Er_. Alas, I know ‘twould anger you, when known. [_She stays him_.

_Org. Erminia_, you are wondrous daring grown. Where got you courage to admit his Love, Before the King or I did it approve?

_Er_. I borrow’d Courage from my Innocence, And my own Virtue, Sir, was my defence. _Philander_ never spoke but from a Soul, That all dishonest Passions can controul; With Flames as chaste as Vestals that did burn, From whence I borrow’d mine, to make return.

_Org_. Your Love from Folly, not from Virtue grew; You never could believe he’d marry you.

_Er_. Upon my life no other thing he spoke, But those from dictates of his Honour took.

_Org_. Though by his fondness led he were content To marry thee, the King would ne’er consent. Cease then this fruitless Passion, and incline Your Will and Reason to agree with mine, _Alcippus_ I dispos’d you to before, And now I am inclin’d to it much more. Some days I had design’d t’have given thee To have prepar’d for this solemnity; But now my second thoughts believe it fit, You should this night to my desires submit.

_Er_. This night! Ah, Sir, what is’t you mean to do?

_Org_. Preserve my Credit, and thy Honour too.

_Er_. By such resolves you me to ruin bring.

_Org_. That’s better than to disoblige my King.

_Er_. But if the King his liking do afford, Would you not with _Alcippus_ break your word? Or would you not to serve your Prince’s life, Permit your Daughter to become his Wife?

_Org_. His Wife, _Erminia_! if I did believe Thou could’st to such a thought a credit give, I would the interest of a Father quit, And you, _Erminia_, have no need of it: Without his aid you can a Husband chuse; Gaining the Prince you may a Father lose.

_Er_. Ah, Sir, these words are Poniards to my Heart; And half my Love to Duty does convert; Alas, Sir, I can be content to die, But cannot suffer this Severity: [_Kneels_. That care you had, dear Sir, continue still, I cannot live and disobey your will. [_Rises_.

_Org_. This duty has regain’d me, and you’ll find A just return; I shall be always kind. --Go, reassume your Beauty, dry your Eyes; Remember ‘tis a Father does advise. [_Goes out_.

_Er_. Ungrateful Duty, whose uncivil Pride By Reason is not to be satisfy’d; Who even Love’s Almighty Power o’erthrows, Or does on it too rigorous Laws impose; Who bindest up our Virtue too too strait, And on our Honour lays too great a weight. Coward, whom nothing but thy power makes strong; Whom Age and Malice bred t’affright the young; Here thou dost tyrannize to that degree, That nothing but my Death will set me free.

[_Ex_. Erm. _and_ Isil.