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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

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


_Cort_. Unknown, I swear, those wrongs were which I wrought,
But my complaints will much more just appear,
Who from another world my freedom brought,
And to your conquering eyes have lost it here.
_Cyd_. Where is that other world, from whence you came?
_Cort_. Beyond the ocean, far from hence it lies.
_Cyd_. Your other world, I fear, is then the same,
That souls must go to when the body dies.
But what's the cause that keeps you here with me,
That I may know what keeps me here with you?
_Cort_. Mine is a love which must perpetual be,
If you can be so just as I am true.
_Enter_ ORBELLAN.
_Orb_. Your father wonders much at your delay.
_Cyd_. So great a wonder for so small a stay!
_Orb_. He has commanded you with me to go.
_Cyd_. Has he not sent to bring the stranger too?
_Orb_. If he to-morrow dares in fight appear,
His high-placed love perhaps may cost him dear.
_Cort_. Dares!--that word was never spoke to Spaniard yet,
But forfeited his life, who gave him it;
Haste quickly with thy pledge of safety hence,
Thy guilt's protected by her innocence.
_Cyd_. Sure in some fatal hour my love was born,
So soon o'ercast with absence in the morn!
_Cort_. Turn hence those pointed glories of your eyes;
For if more charms beneath those circles rise,
So weak my virtue, they so strong appear,
I shall turn ravisher to keep you here.


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