_Aur._ Yes, till you relate What powerful motives did your change create. You thought me dead, and prudently did weigh Tears were but vain, and brought but youth's decay. Then, in Morat, your hopes a crown designed; And all the woman worked within your mind.-- I rave again, and to my rage return, To be again subjected to your scorn. _Ind._ I wait till this long storm be over-blown. _Aur._ I'm conscious of my folly: I have done.-- I cannot rail; but silently I'll grieve. How did I trust! and how did you deceive! Oh, Arimant, would I had died for thee! I dearly buy thy generosity. _Ind._ Alas, is he then dead? _Aur._ Unknown to me, He took my arms; and, while I forced my way Through troops of foes, which did our passage stay, My buckler o'er my aged father cast, Still fighting, still defending as I past, The noble Arimant usurped my name; Fought, and took from me, while he gave me, fame. To Aureng-Zebe, he made his soldiers cry, And, seeing not, where he heard danger nigh, Shot, like a star, through the benighted sky, A short, but mighty aid: At length he fell. My own adventures 'twere lost time to tell; Or how my army, entering in the night, Surprised our foes; The dark disordered fight: How my appearance, and my father shown, Made peace; and all the rightful monarch own. I've summed it briefly, since it did relate The unwelcome safety of the man you hate. _Ind._ As briefly will I clear my innocence: Your altered brother died in my defence. Those tears you saw, that tenderness I showed, Were just effects of grief and gratitude. He died my convert. _Aur._ But your lover too: I heard his words, and did your actions view; You seemed to mourn another lover dead: My sighs you gave him, and my tears you shed. But, worst of all, Your gratitude for his defence was shown: It proved you valued life, when I was gone. _Ind._ Not that I valued life, but feared to die: Think that my weakness, not inconstancy. _Aur._ Fear showed you doubted of your own intent: And she, who doubts, becomes less innocent. Tell me not you could fear; Fear's a large promiser; who subject live To that base passion, know not what they give. No circumstance of grief you did deny; And what could she give more, who durst not die? _Ind._ My love, my faith. _Aur._ Both so adulterate grown, When mixed with fear, they never could be known. I wish no ill might her I love befal; But she ne'er loved, who durst not venture all. Her life and fame should my concernment be; But she should only be afraid for me. _Ind._ My heart was yours; but, oh! you left it here, Abandoned to those tyrants, hope and fear; If they forced from me one kind look, or word, Could you not that, not that small part afford?