_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. [_Kisses her hand_. _Enter_ CYDARIA. _Cyd_. May I believe my eyes! what do I see! Is this her hate to him, his love to me! 'Tis in my breast she sheaths her dagger now. False man, is this thy faith? is this thy vow? [_To him_. _Cort_. What words, dear saint, are these I hear you use? What faith, what vows, are those which you accuse? _Cyd_. More cruel than the tyger o'er his spoil; And falser than the weeping crododile: Can you add vanity to guilt, and take A pride to hear the conquests, which you make? Go, publish your renown; let it be said, You have a woman, and that loved, betrayed. _Cort_. With what injustice is my faith accused! Life, freedom, empire, I at once refused; And would again ten thousand times for you. _Alm_. She'll have too great content to find him true; And therefore, since his love is not for me, I'll help to make my rival's misery. [_Aside_. Spaniard, I never thought you false before: [_To him_. Can you at once two mistresses adore? Keep the poor soul no longer in suspence, Your change is such as does not need defence. _Cort_. Riddles like these I cannot understand. _Alm_. Why should you blush? she saw you kiss my hand. _Cyd_. Fear not; I will, while your first love's denied, Favour your shame, and turn my eyes aside; My feeble hopes in her deserts are lost: I neither can such power nor beauty boast: I have no tie upon you to be true, But that, which loosened yours, my love to you. _Cort_. Could you have heard my words! _Cyd_.--Alas, what needs To hear your words, when I beheld your deeds? _Cort_. What shall I say? the fate of love is such, That still it sees too little or too much. That act of mine, which does your passion move, Was but a mark of my respect, not love. _Alm_. Vex not yourself excuses to prepare: For one, you love not, is not worth your care. _Cort_. Cruel Almeria, take that life you gave; Since you but worse destroy me, while you save. _Cyd_. No, let me die, and I'll my claim resign; For while I live, methinks, you should be mine. _Cort_. The bloodiest vengeance, which she could pursue, Would be a trifle to my loss of you. _Cyd_. Your change was wise: for, had she been denied, A swift revenge had followed from her pride: You from my gentle nature had no fears, All my revenge is only in my tears. _Cort_. Can you imagine I so mean could prove, To save my life by changing of my love? _Cyd_. Since death is that which naturally we shun, You did no more than I, perhaps, had done.