+Dec.+ This is strange! My heart swells much too big to be kept in. [_Aside._ +Queen.+ [_Solil._] But if that providence, which rules the world, Hath, to preserve the stock of virtue, kept Thee yet alive---- +Dec.+ And what, if yet alive? Pray, recollect your reason, and consider My long and faithful service to your crown; The fame of my progenitors, and that Devotion the whole kingdom bears me. How Hath nature punish'd me, that, bringing all The strength of argument to force your judgment, I cannot move your love? +Queen.+ My lord, you plead With so much arrogance, and tell a story So gallant for yourself, as if I were Exposed a prize to the cunning'st orator. +Dec.+ No, madam, humbler far than the tann'd slave Tied to th' oar, I here throw down myself [_Kneels._ And all my victories. Dispose of me To death; for what hath life merits esteem? What tie, alas! can I have to the world, Since you disdain my love? +Flo.+ Will you permit The general kneel so long? +Queen.+ Fear not, Floriana; My lord knows how to rise, though I should strive To hinder it. +Dec.+ Here, statue-like, I'll fix For ever, till your pity (for your love I must despair) enforce a life within me. _Alarum, and enter +Ossuna+._ +Oss.+ O my lord! To arms, to arms! The enemy, encouraged By a strange leader, wheel'd about the town, And desperately surpris'd the careless guard. One gate's already theirs. +Dec.+ Have I your licence? +Queen.+ To augment your own command, and keep me still An humble captive. +Dec.+ Madam, your disdain Distracts me more than all th' assaults of fortune! [_Exeunt all but the +Queen+, +Floriana+, and +Cleantha+._ +Queen.+ My fate, O, whither dost thou lead me? Why Is my youth destin'd to the storms of war? What is my crime, you heavenly Powers, that it Must challenge blood for expiation? +Cle.+ Madam! +Queen.+ Fortune! O cruel! for, which side soe'er Is lost, I suffer; either in my people Or slaughter of my friends. No victory Can now come welcome: the best chance of war Makes me howe'er a mourner. +Cle.+ Madam, you Have lost your virtue, which so often vow'd A clear aspèct, what cloud soever darken'd Your present glory.