Am. No matter, Sir, you have the Year before you.
Alcip. Yes, Madam, so has every Galley Slave,
That knows his Toil, but not his Recompence:
To morrow I expect no more content,
Than this uneasy Day afforded me;
And all before me is but one grand piece
Of endless Grief and Madness:
—You, Madam, taught Erminia to be cruel,
A Vice without your aid she could have learnt;
And now to exercise that new taught Art,
She tries the whole experience on my Heart.
Gal. If she do so, she learnt it not of me,
I love, and therefore know no Cruelty:
Such outrage cannot well with Love reside,
Which only is the mean effect of Pride:
—I merit better thoughts from you, Alcippus.
Alcip. Pardon me, Madam, if my Passion stray
Beyond the limits of my high respect; [He kneels.
—’Tis a rude gust, and merits your reproaches:
But yet the saucy Flame can ne’er controul
That Adoration which I owe my Princess:
That, with Religion, took possession here,
And in my Prayers I mix with you the Deities.
Gal. I’ad rather you should treat me as a Mortal, Rise and begin to do so.
[He rises and bows.
Alcip. Now, Madam, what must I expect from you?
Er. Alcippus, all that’s to your Virtue due.
Alcip. In that but common Justice you allow.
Er. That Justice, Sir, is all I can bestow.