Poems, viz. 1. A panegyrick to the king. 2. Songs and sonnets. 3. The blind lady, a comedy. 4. The fourth book of Virgil, 5. Statius his Achilleis, with annotations. 6. A panegyrick to Generall Monck. / By the Honorable Sr Robert Howard.

ACT 5. SCEN. 2.

Enter, Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysander.

Hyp.

NAy, for certain, Sir, We saw a body marching, which cannot possibly Belong to t'other Army.

Pys.

Why, I did alwayes believe, My dancing daies were not quite done.

Mir.

I know not what to ghesse, nor do I wish; For in extreams, lesse cares give noblest thoughts, Designes of wishing, are the cheating joyes Of fearfull men, t'were foolishnesse beside; A carelesse hope looks handsomely.

Hyp.

We shall so justifie our selves, but I believe, 'Tis not unreasonable, to think our innocence Should merit some protection, the Princesse sure Will not be last in justice.

Mir.

Urge it no more, nothing is worth her care, 'Tis some as bad as those, come to assist them.

Enter servant.

Serv.

There's one without, Sir, that would desire

Admittance to you.

Mir.

Who i'st.

Serv.

A woman.

Mir.

A woman? I cannot ghesse,—

Exit. servant.

—Let her come in. What should this mean, deceive me not too much, Fond hope, nor puzzle me, for if you do,—at last, I shall grow carelesse of my joyes and you; Ha! Amione,—welcome,

Enter with Amione.

Welcome, above all joyes but one.

Ami.

Perhaps, welcome as that, I have much to say, But I must first be civill. Brave Hyppasus, May you nere know extremities, but if you should, May you find such a friend, as you have been.

Hyp.

Were I not nobly paid in his desert, I were in this?

Ami.

The same to you Pysander, for to thank you In any other Language, were too poor, And much unjust, for to divide, What you so nobly joyn'd in.

Pys.

Now have I forgot, what Hyppasus said, Pray take his answer in good part for us both.

Ami.

You'ar merry still, Pysander.

Pys.

I confesse, nothing went ever neer my heart, Unlesse it were your Love, but what availeth sighes and tears?

Ami.

Very well, Sir. Dear Brother, pardon this injury of gratitude, That kept me so long from you; forgive me too,

If joy disorders me, I have enough To see you safe.

Mir.

Dear Amione, how long we shall be so, Heaven knows, yet 'twas a great advantage To live thus long to see thee: but how wast possible You could get hither, or from whence now come you?

Ami.

Why, Phylanter's great civility, Brought me safe hither.

Mir.

But from whence?

Ami.

From the Army.

Mir.

From whose Army?

Ami.

The Princesse.

Mir.

Ha!—

Ami.

I will defer your joyes no longer From the Princesse, who bid me tell you, That faith and constancie's rewarded In t'other world, and will be so in this?

Mir.

Thou would'st not mock me sure.

Ami.

I do not.

Mir.

O▪ Amione, Didst thou but know the joy of every heart, That at this hour, has its wishes crown'd, Thou might'st then ghesse at mine. And is she there in person?

Ami.

Yes, attended with a gallant Army, Much stronger then the enemy, you might Discern them sure; and resolved as soon as I return To offer battell. Is Phylanter, Prepar'd to fight?

Mir.

With any thing in spight of all his crimes,

Resolves to perish bravely, so great a villain Ne're bore so brave a mind,—tis a question, Whether he thinks, there's such a thing as danger.

Ami.

We heard indeed, he storm'd it bravely, And that your hurts were of more danger Then I perceive they are; 'twas the report Of that which brought me hither. Nor must I stay, the Princesse layed commands Of my immediate coming back; at more leisure, You shall have all my story, in the mean time, I must needs tell you, you are like to be Extreamly happy; O Brother, never was so much sweetness Guarded so sure from crimes, if ever breast Were Sanctuary for vertues, it is her's: She will deserve your love I fear much more, Unlesse its possible, men should be constant.

Mir.

This is not kind Amione, her valew Will make me wise still to preserve my riches; And benefit is mans designe.

Ami.

Man seldome though pursues his owne ad∣vantage, Women like Towns, once wonne are slighted: VVhat we already have within our powers, Has lesse esteem then unatchieved things.

Mir.

Urge it no more, one may as well be weary Of the Sun's constant shining, as her influence: He never rises, but he seems to bring Fresh glory from the East▪ and every day VVill adde a new discovery of her vertues, That she will never seem enjoy'd enough. Besides, though man's compos'd of faithlesse matter,

The Soul of one may be of nobler use Than others are, and with that Soul Man had not been so nobly put in trust Had he not means left free to be unjust. Come, so much eternitie as my love must have, Must not be told in such a little moment As you have now to spare, nor will I injure The little time I have with thee, When we shall meet again heaven knows: For friends once pawn'd to distance there is a danger To bankrupt hopes. You must expect but poor besieged welcome —Who such relief as Anchorets have At least shall find in an expected grave.

[Exeunt.