_Alm._ Leave then the luggage of your fate behind; To make your flight more easy leave Almeyda: Nor think me left a base, ignoble prey, Exposed to this inhuman tyrant's lust; My virtue is a guard beyond my strength, And death, my last defence, within my call. _Seb._ Death may be called in vain, and cannot come; Tyrants can tie him up from your relief; Nor has a Christian privilege to die. Alas, thou art too young in thy new faith: Brutus and Cato might discharge their souls, And give them furloughs for another world; But we, like sentries, are obliged to stand In starless nights, and wait the appointed hour[2]. _Alm._ If shunning ill be good To those, who cannot shun it but by death, Divines but peep on undiscovered worlds, And draw the distant landscape as they please; But who has e'er returned from those bright regions, To tell their manners, and relate their laws? I'll venture landing on that happy shore With an unsullied body and white mind; If I have erred, some kind inhabitant Will pity a strayed soul, and take me home. _Seb._ Beware of death! thou canst not die unperjured, And leave an unaccomplished love behind. Thy vows are mine; nor will I quit my claim: The ties of minds are but imperfect bonds, Unless the bodies join to seal the contract. _Alm._ What joys can you possess, or can I give, Where groans of death succeed the sighs of love? Our Hymen has not on his saffron robe; But, muffled up in mourning, downward holds His drooping torch, extinguished with his tears. _Seb._ The God of Love stands ready to revive it, With his etherial breath. _Alm._ 'Tis late to join, when we must part so soon. _Seb._ Nay, rather let us haste it, ere we part; Our souls, for want of that acquaintance here, May wander in the starry walks above, And, forced on worse companions, miss ourselves. _Alm._ The tyrant will not long be absent hence; And soon I shall be ravished from your arms. _Seb._ Wilt thou thyself become the greater tyrant, And give not love, while thou hast love to give? In dangerous days, when riches are a crime, The wise betimes make over their estates: Make o'er thy honour, by a deed of trust, And give me seizure of the mighty wealth. _Alm._ What shall I do? O teach me to refuse! I would,--and yet I tremble at the grant; For dire presages fright my soul by day, And boding visions haunt my nightly dreams; Sometimes, methinks, I hear the groans of ghosts, Thin, hollow sounds, and lamentable screams; Then, like a dying echo, from afar, My mother's voice, that cries,--Wed not, Almeyda! Forewarned, Almeyda, marriage is thy crime. _Seb._ Some envious demon to delude our joys; Love is not sin, but where 'tis sinful love. _Alm._ Mine is a flame so holy and so clear, That the white taper leaves no soot behind; No smoke of lust; but chaste as sisters' love, When coldly they return a brother's kiss, Without the zeal that meets at lovers' mouths[3].