_Mont_. Though, madam, for your brother's loss I grieve,
Yet let me beg--
_Alm_. His murderer may live?
_Cyd_. 'Twas his misfortune, and the chance of war.
_Cort_. It was my purpose, and I killed him fair:
How could you so unjust and cruel prove,
To call that chance, which was the act of love?
_Cyd_. I called it any thing to save your life:
Would he were living still, and I his wife!
That wish was once my greatest misery:
But 'tis a greater to behold you die.
_Alm_. Either command his death upon the place,
Or never more behold Almeria's face.
_Guy_. You by his valour once from death were freed:
Can you forget so generous a deed?
[_To_ MONTEZUMA.
_Mont_. How gratitude and love divide my breast!
Both ways alike my soul is robbed of rest.
But--let him die--Can I his sentence give?
Ungrateful, must he die, by whom I live?
But can I then Almeria's tears deny?
Should any live whom she commands to die?
_Guy_. Approach who dares: He yielded on my word;
And, as my prisoner, I restore his sword.
[_Gives his sword_.
His life concerns the safety of the state,
And I'll preserve it for a calm debate.
_Mont_. Dar'st thou rebel, false and degenerate boy?
That being, which I gave, I thus destroy.
[_Offers to kill him_, ODMAR _steps between_.
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