ray my trust.
_Ind_. You first betray'd your trust in loving me:
And should not I my own advantage see?
Serving my love, you may my friendship gain;
You know the rest of your pretences vain.
You must, my Arimant, you must be kind:
'Tis in your nature, and your noble mind.
_Arim_. I'll to the king, and straight my trust resign.
_Ind_. His trust you may, but you shall never mine.
Heaven made you love me for no other end,
But to become my confidant and friend:
As such, I keep no secret from your sight,
And therefore make you judge how ill I write:
Read it, and tell me freely then your mind,
If 'tis indited, as I meant it, kind.
Arim. _I ask not heaven my freedom to restore_--[Reading.
_But only for your sake_--I'll read no more.
And yet I must--
_Less for my own, than for your sorrow sad_--[Reading.
Another line like this, would make me mad--
Heav'n! she goes on--yet more--and yet more kind!
[--_As reading_.
Each sentence is a dagger to my mind.
_See me this night_--[Reading.
_Thank fortune who did such a friend provide;
For faithful Arimant shall be your guide_.
Not only to be made an instrument,
But pre-engaged without my own consent!
_Ind_. Unknown to engage you still augments my score,
And gives you scope of meriting the more.
_Arim_. The best of men
Some int'rest in their actions must confess;
None merit, but in hope they may possess:
The fatal paper rather let me tear,
Than, like Bellerophon, my own sentence hear.
_Ind_. You may; but 'twill not be your best advice:
'Twill only give me pains of writing twice.
You know you must obey me, soon or late:
Why should you vainly struggle with your fate?
_Arim_. I thank thee, heav'n! thou hast been wondrous kind!
Why am I thus to slavery design'd,
And yet am cheated with a free-born mind!
Or make thy orders with my reason suit,
Or let me live by sense, a glorious brute--[_She frowns_.
You frown, and I obey with speed, before
That dreadful sentence comes, _See me no more_.
In this scene, every circumstance concurs to turn tragedy to farce. The
wild absurdity of the expedient; the contemptible subjection of the
lover; the folly of obliging him to read the letter, only because it
ought to have been concealed from him; the frequent interruptions of
amorous impatience; the faint expostulations of a voluntary slave;
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