ia_ does appear,
And sure no Devil can inhabit there.

[_He comes on and kneels, one knocks, she steals back in at a door_.

_Alcan_. [_Within_.] My Lord the Prince!

_Phi_. Ha--Oh Gods, I charge thee not to vanish yet!
I charge thee by those Powers thou dost obey,
Not to deprive me of thy blessed sight.

_Er_. I will revisit thee. [_Ex_.

_Enter_ Alcander.

_Phi_. I'm not content with that.
--Stay, stay, my dear _Erminia_.

_Alcan_. What mean you, Sir?
[_He rises and looks still afrighted_.

_Phi_. _Alcander_, look, look, how she glides away,
Dost thou not see't?

_Alcan_. Nothing, Sir, not I.

_Phi_. No, now she's gone again.

_Alcan_. You are disorder'd, pray sit down a while.

_Phi_. No, not at all, _Alcander_; I'm my self,
I was not in a Dream, nor in a Passion
When she appear'd, her Face a little pale,
But else my own _Erminia_, she her self,
I mean a thing as like, nay, it spoke too,
And I undaunted answer'd it again;
But when you knockt it vanisht.

_Alcan_. 'Twas this _Aminta_ would persuade me to,
And, faith, I laught at her,
And wish I might have leave to do so now.

_Phi_. You do displease me with your Unbelief.

_Alcan_. Why, Sir, do you think there can indeed be Ghosts?

_Phi_. Pray do not urge my Sense to lose its nature.

_Er_. It is _Alcander_, I may trust him too.
[_She peeps in on them, and comes out_.

_Phi_. Look where she comes again, credit thy Eyes,
Which did persuade thee that they saw her dead.

_Alcan_. By Heaven, and so they did.
[_Both seem frighted_.
--Gods--this is wondrous strange! yet I can bear it,
If it were the Devil himself in that fair shape.

_Phi_. And yet thou shakest.

_Alcan_. I do, but know not why.
--Inform us, lovely Spirit, what thou art,
A God--or Devil; if either, thou art welcome.

_Er_. You cannot think, _Alcander_, there be Ghosts.
[_She gives her hands to him and_ Phi. _which
they refuse to touch_.
No, give me your hand, and prove mine flesh and blood.
--Sir, you were wont to credit what I said,
And I would still merit that kind opinion.

_Phi_. _Erminia_, Soul of Sweetness, is it you?
--How do you ravish with excess of Joys?

_Er_. Softly, dear Sir, do not express that Joy,
Lest you destroy it by your doing so.
I fly for sanctuary to your Arms;
As yet none knows I live, but poor _Isillia_,
Who bathing of my cold face with her tears,
Perceiv'd some signs of life, and us'd what means
Her Love and Duty did