_Cyd_. Then all your care is for your prince, I see;
Your truth to him out-weighs your love to me:
You may so cruel to deny me prove,
But never after that pretend to love.
_Cort_. Command my life, and I will soon obey;
To save my honour I my blood will pay.
_Cyd_. What is this honour which does love controul?
_Cort_. A raging fit of virtue in the soul;
A painful burden which great minds must bear,
Obtained with danger, and possest with fear.
_Cyd_. Lay down that burden if it painful grow;
You'll find, without it, love will lighter go.
_Cort_. Honour, once lost, is never to be found.
_Alib_. Perhaps he looks to have both passions crowned;
First dye his honour in a purple flood,
Then court the daughter in the father's blood.
_Cort_. The edge of war I'll from the battle take,
And spare her father's subjects for her sake.
_Cyd_. I cannot love you less when I'm refused.
But I can die to be unkindly used;
Where shall a maid's distracted heart find rest.
If she can miss it in her lover's breast?
_Cort_. I till to-morrow will the fight delay;
Remember you have conquered me to-day.
_Alib_. This grant destroys all you have urged before;
Honour could not give this, or can give more.
Our women in the foremost ranks appear;
March to the fight, and meet your mistress there:
Into the thickest squadrons she must run,
Kill her, and see what honour will be won.
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