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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

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


Is no way left that we may yet agree?
Must I have war, yet have no enemy?
_Vasq_. He has refused all terms of peace to take.
_Mont_. Since we must fight, hear, heavens, what prayers I make!
First, to preserve this ancient state and me,
But if your doom the fall of both decree,
Grant only he, who has such honour shewn,
When I am dust, may fill my empty throne!
_Cort_. To make me happier than that wish can do,
Lies not in all your Gods to grant, but you;
Let this fair princess but one minute stay,
A look from her will your obligements pay.
[_Exeunt_ MONTEZUMA, ODMAR, GUYOMAR, ORBELLAN, ALMERIA, and
ALIBECH.
_Mont_. to _Cyd_. Your duty in your quick return be shewn.--
Stay you, and wait my daughter to the town.
[_To his guards_.
[CYDARIA _is going, but turns and looks back upon_ CORTEZ, _who
is looking on her all this while_.
_Cyd_. My father's gone, and yet I cannot go;
Sure I have something lost or left behind!
[_Aside_.
_Cort_. Like travellers who wander in the snow,
I on her beauty gaze 'till I am blind.
[_Aside_.
_Cyd_. Thick breath, quick pulse, and heaving of my heart,
All signs of some unwonted change appear:
I find myself unwilling to depart,
And yet I know not why I would be here.
Stranger, you raise such torments in my breast,
That when I go, (if I must go again)
I'll tell my father you have robbed my rest,
And to him of your injuries complain.


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