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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

"The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 02"

Lay by our swords,
And I'll scratch with you for him.
_Hip_. That's not manly.
_Amid_. Well, since it must be so, I'll fight:--Unbutton.
[_HIPPOLITO unbuttons slowly_.
How many buttons has he? I'll be one
Behind him still. [_Aside_.
[_Unbuttons one by one after him. HIPPOLITO makes more haste_.
You are so prodigal! if you loved my master,
You would not tear his doublet so:--How's this!
Two swelling breasts! a woman, and my rival!
The stings of jealousy have given me courage,
Which nature never gave me:
Come on, thou vile dissembler of thy sex;
Expect no mercy; either thou or I
Must die upon this spot: Now for Gonsalvo--
Sa--Sa--
_Hip_. This courage is not counterfeit; ah me!
What shall I do? for pity, gentle boy--
_Amid_. No pity; such a cause as ours
Can neither give nor take it: If thou yieldest,
I will not spare thee; therefore, fight it out.
[_Tears open his doublet_.
_Hip_. Death to my hopes! a woman! and so rare
A beauty, that my lord must needs doat on her.
I should myself, if I had been a man:
But, as I am, her eyes shoot death at me.
_Amid_. Come, have you said your prayers?
_Hip_. For thy confusion,--
Thou ravenous harpy, with an angel's face,--
Thou art discovered, thou too charming rival;
I'll be revenged upon those fatal eyes.


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