_Man_. Heaven! what has she done? _Gons_. Let go the lady, or expect no mercy!--The least drop of her blood is worth all yours. And mine together. _1 Pirate_. I am glad you think so:-- Either deliver up your sword, or mine Shall pierce her heart this moment. _Gons_. Here, here, take it. _Man_. You are not mad, to give away all hopes [_MANUEL holds him_ Of safety and defence, from us, from her, And from yourself, at once! _Gons_. When she is dead, What is there worth defending? _Man_. Will you trust A pirate's promise, sooner than your valour? _Gons_. Any thing, rather than see her in danger. _1 Pirate_. Nay, if you dispute the matter!-- [_Holds his sword to her breast_. _Gons_. I yield, I yield!--Reason to love must bow: Love, that gives courage, can make cowards too! [_Gives his sword_. _Jul_. O, strange effect of a most generous passion! _Rod_. His enemies themselves must needs admire it. _Man_. Nay, if Gonsalvo makes a fashion of it, 'Twill be valour to die tamely. [_Gives his_. _Hip_. I am for dying too with my dear master. _Amid_. My life will go as easily as a fly's; The least fillip does it in this fright. _1 Pirate_. One call our captain up: Tell him, he deserves little of the booty. _Jul_. It has so much prevailed upon my soul, I ever must acknowledge it. [_To GONS_. _Rod_. Julia has reason, if she love him; yet, I find I cannot bear it. [_Aside_. _Gons_. Say but, you love me; I am more than paid. _Jul_. You ask that only thing, I cannot give;-- Were I not Roderick's first, I should be yours; My violent love for him, I know, is faulty; Yet passion never can be placed so ill, But that to change it is the greater crime. Inconstancy is such a guilt, as makes That very love suspected, which it brings; It brings a gift, but 'tis of ill-got wealth, The spoils of some forsaken lover's heart. Love, altered once, like blood let out before, Will lose its virtue, and can cure no more. _Gons_. In those few minutes which I have to live, To be called yours, is all I can enjoy. Roderick receives no prejudice by that; I would but make some small acquaintance here, For fear I never should enquire you out In that new world, which we are going to. _Amid_. Then, I can hold no longer;--You desire, In death, to be called hers; and all I wish, Is, dying, to be yours. _Hip_. You'll not discover? [_Aside_. _Amid_. See here the most unfortunate of women, That Angelina, whom you all thought lost; And lost she was indeed, when she beheld Gonsalvo first. _All_. How?--Angelina! _Rod_. Ha! My sister!