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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

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


_Piz_. I the gold. [_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV.--_A Prison_.
CORTEZ _discovered bound:_ ALMERIA _talking with him_.

_Alm_. I come not now your constancy to prove;
You may believe me when I say I love.
_Cort_. You have too well instructed me before
In your intentions, to believe you more.
_Alm_. I'm justly plagued by this your unbelief,
And am myself the cause of my own grief:
But to beg love, I cannot stoop so low;
It is enough that you my passion know:
'Tis in your choice; love me, or love me not;
I have not yet my brother's death forgot.
[_Lays hold on the dagger_.
_Cort_. You menace me and court me in a breath:
Your Cupid looks as dreadfully as death.
_Alm_. Your hopes, without, are vanished into smoke:
Your captains taken, and your armies broke.
_Cort_. In vain you urge me with my miseries:
When fortune falls, high courages can rise;
Now should I change my love, it would appear
Not the effect of gratitude, but fear.
_Alm_. I'll to the king, and make it my request,
Or my command, that you may be releast;
And make you judge, when I have set you free,
Who best deserves your passion, I, or she.
_Cort_. You tempt my faith so generous a way,
As without guilt might constancy betray:
But I'm so far from meriting esteem,
That, if I judge, I must myself condemn;
Yet having given my worthless heart before,
What I must ne'er possess, I will adore:
Take my devotion then this humbler way;
Devotion is the love which heaven we pay.


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