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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

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


_Alm_. A burning blush has covered all my face;
Why am I forced to publish my disgrace?
What if I love? you know it cannot be,
And yet I blush to put the case--'twere me.
If I could love you with a flame so true,
I could forget what hand my brother slew--
--Make out the rest--I am disordered so,
I know not farther what to say or do:
--But answer me to what you think I meant.
_Cort_. Reason or wit no answer can invent:
Of words confused who can the meaning find?
_Alm_. Disordered words show a distempered mind.
_Cort_. She has obliged me so, that could I chuse,
I would not answer what I must refuse. [_Aside_.
_Alm_. His mind is shook--suppose I loved you, speak,
Would you for me Cydaria's fetters break?
_Cort_. Things, meant in jest, no serious answer need.
_Alm_. But, put the case that it were so indeed.
_Cort_. If it were so,--which but to think were pride,--
My constant love would dangerously be tried:
For since you could a brother's death forgive,
He, whom you save, for you alone should live:
But I, the most unhappy of mankind,
Ere I knew yours, have all my love resigned:
'Tis my own loss I grieve, who have no more:
You go a-begging to a bankrupt's door.
Yet could I change, as sure I never can,
How could you love so infamous a man?
For love, once given from her, and placed in you,
Would leave no ground I ever could be true.


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