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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

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


_Alm_. Enough, I die content, now you are kind;
Killed in my limbs, reviving in my mind:
Come near, Cydaria, and forgive my crime.
[CYDARIA _starts back_.
You need not fear my rage a second time:
I'll bathe your wounds in tears for my offence.
That hand, which made it, makes this recompence.
[_Ready to join their hands_.
I would have joined you, but my heart's too high:
You will, too soon, possess him when I die.
_Cort_. She faints; O softly set her down.
_Alm_. 'Tis past!
In thy loved bosom let me breathe my last.
Here, in this one short moment that I live,
I have whate'er the longest life could give. [_Dies_.
_Cort_. Farewell, thou generous maid: Even victory,
Glad as it is, must lend some tears to thee;
Many I dare not shed, lest you believe [_To_ CYD.
I joy in you less than for her I grieve.
_Cyd_. But are you sure she's dead?
I must embrace you fast, before I know,
Whether my life be yet secure, or no:
Some other hour I will to tears allow,
But, having you, can shew no sorrow now.
_Enter_ GUYOMAR _and_ ALIBECH _bound, with Soldiers_.
_Cort_. Prince Guyomar in bonds! O friendship's shame!
It makes me blush to own a victor's name.
[_Unbinds him,_ CYDARIA, ALIBECH.
_Cyd_. See, Alibech, Almeria lies there;
But do not think 'twas I that murdered her.


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