The King’s Chamber.
Enter Philander with the King.
King. Thou’st entertain’d me with a pretty Story,
And call’d up so much Nature to thy Cause,
That I am half subjected to its Laws;
I find thy lovely Mother plead within too,
And bids me put no force upon thy Will;
Tells me thy Flame should be as unconfin’d
As that we felt when our two Souls combin’d.
Alas, Philander, I am old and feeble,
And cannot long survive:
But thou hast many Ages yet to number
Of Youth and Vigour; and should all be wasted
In the Embraces of an unlov’d Maid?
No, my Philander, if that after death
Ought could remain to me of this World’s Joys,
I should remember none with more delight,
Than those of having left thee truly happy.
Phi. This Goodness, Sir, resembles that of Heaven,
Preserving what it made, and can be paid
Only with grateful Praise as we do that.
King. Go, carry on your innocent design,
And when you’ve done, the last act shall be mine.
[Exeunt