ok so high?
That crawling insect, who from mud began,
Warmed by my beams, and kindled into man?
Durst he, who does but for my pleasure live,
Intrench on love, my great prerogative?
Print his base image on his sovereign's coin?
'Tis treason if he stamp his love with mine.

_Arim._ 'Tis true, I have been bold, but if it be
A crime--

_Ind._ He means, 'tis only so to me.
You, sir, should praise, what I must disapprove.
He insolently talked to me of love;
But, sir, 'twas yours, he made it in your name;
You, if you please, may all he said disclaim.

_Emp._ I must disclaim whate'er he can express;
His groveling sense will show my passion less:
But stay,--if what he said my message be,
What fear, what danger, could arrive from me?
He said, he feared you would his life betray.

_Ind._ Should he presume again, perhaps I may.
Though in your hands he hazard not his life,
Remember, sir, your fury of a wife;
Who, not content to be revenged on you,
The agents of your passion will pursue.

_Emp._ If I but hear her named, I'm sick that day;
The sound is mortal, and frights life away.--
Forgive me, Arimant, my jealous thought:
Distrust in lovers is the tenderest fault.
Leave me, and tell thyself, in my excuse,
Love, and a crown, no rivalship can bear;
And precious things are still possessed with fear.
[_Exit_ ARIMANT, _bowing._
This, madam, my excuse to you may plead;
Love should forgive the faults, which love has made.

_Ind._ From me, what pardon can you hope to have,
Robbed of my love, and treated as a slave?

_Emp._ Force is the last relief which lovers find;
And 'tis the best excuse of woman-kind.

_Ind._ Force never yet a generous heart did gain;
We yield on parley, but are stormed in vain.
Constraint in all things makes the pleasure less;
Sweet is the love which comes with willingness.

_Emp._ No; 'tis resistance that inflames desire,
Sharpens the darts of love, and blows his fire.
Love is disarmed, that meets with too much ease;
He languishes, and does not care to please:
And therefore 'tis, your golden fruit you guard
With so much care,--to make possession hard.

_Ind._ Was't not enough, you took my crown away,
But cruelly you must my love betray?
I was well pleased to have transferred my right,
And better changed your claim of lawless might,
By taking him, whom you esteemed above
Your other sons, and taught me first to love.

_Emp._ My son by my command hi