by the greater flame the lesser light,
Like Candles in the Sun extinguished quite,
And left no power _Alcander_ to resist,
Who took, and keeps possession of my breast.

_Gal_. Art thou a Lover then, and look'st so gay,
But thou hast ne'er a Father to obey. [_Sighing_.

_Am_. Why, if I had I would obey him too.

_Gal_. And live?

_Am_. And live.

_Gal_. 'Tis more than I can do.

_Enter_ Erminia _weeping_.

--Thy Eyes, _Erminia_, do declare thy Heart
[Gal. _meets her, embraces her, and weeps_.
Has nothing but Despairs and Death t'impart,
And I alas, no Comfort can apply,
But I as well as you can weep and die.

_Er_. I'll not reproach my Fortune, since in you
Grief does the noblest of your Sex subdue;
When your great Soul a sorrow can admit,
I ought to suffer from the sense of it;
Your cause of grief too much like mine appears,
Not to oblige my Eyes to double tears;
And had my heart no sentiments at home,
My part in yours had doubtless fill'd the room.
But mine will no addition more receive,
Fate has bestow'd the worst she had to give;
Your mighty Soul can all its rage oppose,
Whilst mine must perish by more feeble blows.

_Gal_. Indeed I dare not say my cause of grief
Does yours exceed, since both are past relief.
But if your Fates unequal do appear,
_Erminia_, 'tis my heart that odds must bear.

_Er_. Madam, 'tis just I should to you resign,
But here you challenge what is only mine:
My Fate so cruel is, it will not give
Leave to _Philander_ (if I die) to live:
Might I but suffer all, 'twere some content,
But who can live and see this languishment?
You, Madam, do alone your Sorrows bear,
Which would be less, did but _Alcippus_ share;
As Lovers we agree, I'll not deny,
But thou art lov'd again, so am not I.

_Am_. Madam, that grief the better is sustain'd,
That's for a loss that never yet was gain'd;
You only lose a man that does not know
How great the honour is which you bestow;
Who dares not hope you love, or if he did,
Your Greatness would his just return forbid;
His humble thoughts durst ne'er to you aspire,
At most he would presume but to admire;
Or if it chanc'd he durst more daring prove,
You still must languish and conceal your Love.

_Gal_. This which you argue lessens not my Pain,
My Grief's the same were I belov'd again.
The King my Father would his promise keep,
And thou must him enjoy for whom I weep.

_Er_. Ah, would I could that