more.

_Alm_. I'm justly plagued by this your unbelief,
And am myself the cause of my own grief:
But to beg love, I cannot stoop so low;
It is enough that you my passion know:
'Tis in your choice; love me, or love me not;
I have not yet my brother's death forgot.
[_Lays hold on the dagger_.

_Cort_. You menace me and court me in a breath:
Your Cupid looks as dreadfully as death.

_Alm_. Your hopes, without, are vanished into smoke:
Your captains taken, and your armies broke.

_Cort_. In vain you urge me with my miseries:
When fortune falls, high courages can rise;
Now should I change my love, it would appear
Not the effect of gratitude, but fear.

_Alm_. I'll to the king, and make it my request,
Or my command, that you may be releast;
And make you judge, when I have set you free,
Who best deserves your passion, I, or she.

_Cort_. You tempt my faith so generous a way,
As without guilt might constancy betray:
But I'm so far from meriting esteem,
That, if I judge, I must myself condemn;
Yet having given my worthless heart before,
What I must ne'er possess, I will adore:
Take my devotion then this humbler way;
Devotion is the love which heaven we pay.
[_Kisses her hand_.

_Enter_ CYDARIA.

_Cyd_. May I believe my eyes! what do I see!
Is this her hate to him, his love to me!
'Tis in my breast she sheaths her dagger now.
False man, is this thy faith? is this thy vow?
[_To him_.

_Cort_. What words, dear saint, are these I hear you use?
What faith, what vows, are those which you accuse?

_Cyd_. More cruel than the tyger o'er his spoil;
And falser than the weeping crododile:
Can you add vanity to guilt, and take
A pride to hear the conquests, which you make?
Go, publish your renown; let it be said,
You have a woman, and that loved, betrayed.

_Cort_. With what injustice is my faith accused!
Life, freedom, empire, I at once refused;
And would again ten thousand times for you.

_Alm_. She'll have too great content to find him true;
And therefore, since his love is not for me,
I'll help to make my rival's misery. [_Aside_.
Spaniard, I never thought you false before:
[_To him_.
Can you at once two mistresses adore?
Keep the poor soul no longer in suspence,
Your change is such as does not need defence.

_Cort_. Riddles like these I cannot understand.

_Alm_. Why should you blush? she saw you kiss my hand.

_Cyd_. Fear not; I will, while your first love's denied,
Favour your shame, and turn my