Chapter 56

at the Chamber-door of_ Erminia; _to them_ Pisaro, _who listens whilst the Song is sung_.

The Song for the _Page_ to sing at _Erminia’s_ Chamber-door.

Amintas _that true-hearted Swain Upon a River’s bank was laid, Where to the pitying streams he did complain Of_ Sylvia _that false charming Maid, But she was still regardless of his pain: Oh faithless_ Sylvia! _would he cry, And what he said the Echoes would reply_. Be kind or else I die, _E_. I die. Be kind or else I die, _E_. I die.

_A shower of tears his eyes let fall, Which in the River made impress, Then sigh’d, and_ Sylvia _false again would call, A cruel faithless Shepherdess. Is Love with you become a criminal? Ah lay aside this needless scorn, Allow your poor Adorer some return_, Consider how I burn, _E_. I burn. Consider, &c.

_Those Smiles and Kisses which you give. Remember_, Sylvia, _are my due; And all the Joys my Rival does receive He ravishes from me, not you. Ah_ Sylvia, _can I live and this believe? Insensibles are touched to see My languishments, and seem to pity me_. Which I demand of thee, _E_. of thee, Which I demand, &c.

_Pis_. What’s all this?

_Phi_. Who’s there?

_Pis_. A Man, a Friend to the General.

_Phi_. Then thou’rt an Enemy to all good Men. Does the ungrateful Wretch hide his own head, And send his Spies abroad?

_Pis_. He is too great to fear, and needs them not: And him thou termest so, scorns the Office too.

_Phi_. What makest thou here then, when the whole World’s asleep? Be gone, there lies thy way, where’er thy business be.

_Pis_. It lies as free for thee, and here’s my business.

_Phi_. Thou lyest, rude man.

_Pis_. Why, what art thou darest tell me so i’th’ dark? Day had betray’d thy blushes for this Boldness.

_Phi_. Tell me who ‘tis that dares capitulate?

_Pis_. One that dares make it good.

_Phi_. Draw then, and keep thy word.

_Alcan_. Stand by, and let me do that duty, Sir. [_He steps between them, they fight_, Pisaro _falls_. --Here’s thy reward, whoe’er thou art.

_Phi_. Hast thou no hurt?

_Alcan_. I think not much, yet somewhere ‘tis I bleed.

_Pis_. What a dull beast am I!

[_Exeunt_ Prince _and_ Alcan.

_Enter_ Page.

_Page_. My Lord, is’t you are fallen? Help, Murder! Murder!

_Pis_. Hold, bawling Dog.

_Enter_ Alcippus _in a Night-gown, with a Sword in his hand, a_ Page _with Lights_.

_Alcip_. ‘Twas hereabouts--who’s this, _Pisaro_ wounded? [_He looks up_. How cam’st thou thus? Come up into my Arms.

_Pis_. ‘Twas Jealousy, _Alcippus_, that wild Monster, Who never leaves us till he has thus betray’d us. --Pox on’t, I am asham’d to look upon thee. I have disturb’d you to no purpose, Sir. I am not wounded, go to bed again.

_Alcan_. I’ll see thee to thy Lodgings first, _Pisaro_.

_Pis_. ‘Twill be unkind both to your self and me.

[_Exeunt_.