on's nice taste does our delights destroy:
Brutes are more blessed, who grossly feed on joy.

_Ind._ Such endless jealousies your love pursue,
I can no more be fully blessed than you.
I therefore go, to free us both from pain:
I prized your person, but your crown disdain.
Nay, even my own--
I give it you; for, since I cannot call
Your heart my subject, I'll not reign at all. [_Exit._

_Aur._ Go: Though thou leav'st me tortured on the rack,
'Twixt shame and pride, I cannot call thee back.--
She's guiltless, and I should submit; but oh!
When she exacts it, can I stoop so low?
Yes; for she's guiltless; but she's haughty too.
Great souls long struggle ere they own a crime:
She's gone; and leaves me no repenting time.
I'll call her now; sure, if she loves, she'll stay;
Linger at least, or not go far away.
[_Looks to the door, and returns._
For ever lost! and I repent too late.
My foolish pride would set my whole estate,
Till, at one throw, I lost all back to fate.

_To him the Emperor, drawing in_ INDAMORA: _Attendants._

_Emp._ It must not be, that he, by whom we live,
Should no advantage of his gift receive.
Should he be wholly wretched? he alone,
In this blessed day, a day so much his own? [_To_ IND.
I have not quitted yet a victor's right:
I'll make you happy in your own despite.
I love you still; and, if I struggle hard
To give, it shows the worth of the reward.

_Ind._ Suppose he has o'ercome; must I find place
Among his conquered foes, and sue for grace?
Be pardoned, and confess I loved not well?
What though none live my innocence to tell,
I know it: Truth may own a generous pride:
I clear myself, and care for none beside.

_Aur._ Oh, Indamora, you would break my heart!
Could you resolve, on any terms, to part?
I thought your love eternal: Was it tied
So loosely, that a quarrel could divide?
I grant that my suspicions were unjust;
But would you leave me, for a small distrust?
Forgive those foolish words-- [_Kneeling to her._
They were the froth my raging folly moved,
When it boiled up: I knew not then I loved;
Yet then loved most.

_Ind._ [_To_ AUR.]
You would but half be blest! [_Giving her hand, smiling._

_Aur._ Oh do but try
My eager love: I'll give myself the lie.
The very hope is a full happiness,
Yet scantly measures what I shall possess.
Fancy itself, even in enjoyment, is
But a dumb