Pis. Give me your hand, and promise to be calm.
Alcip. By all our Friendships, as the Western Winds, [Gives his hand. Nothing that’s done shall e’er inrage me more, Honour’s the Mistress I’ll henceforth adore. [Exit.
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?