_Alm_. Dull ignorance! he cannot yet conceive: To speak more plain, shame will not give me leave. [_Aside_. --Suppose one loved you, whom even kings adore: [_To him_. Who, with your life, your freedom would restore, And add to that the crown of Mexico: Would you, for her, Cydaria's love forego? _Cort_. Though she could offer all you can invent, I could not of my faith, once vowed, repent. _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. _Alm_. You construed me aright--I was in jest: And, by that offer, meant to sound your breast; Which since I find so constant to your love, Will much my value of your worth improve. Spaniard, assure yourself you shall not be Obliged to quit Cydaria for me: 'Tis dangerous though to treat me in this sort, And to refuse my offers, though in sport. [_Exit_. _Cort_. In what a strange condition am I left? More than I wish I have, of all I wish bereft! In wishing nothing, we enjoy still most; For even our wish is, in possession, lost: Restless, we wander to a new desire, And burn ourselves, by blowing up the fire: We toss and turn about our feverish will, When all our ease must come by lying still: For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain. [_Goes in, and the scene closes upon him_. SCENE II.--_Chamber-royal_. _Enter_ MONTEZUMA, ODMAR, GUYOMAR, _and_ ALIBECH. _Mont_. My ears are deaf with this impatient crowd. _Odm_. Their wants are now grown mutinous and loud: The general's taken, but the siege remains; And their last food our dying men sustains.