_Por._ Unkind! can you, whom only I adore, Set open to your slave the prison-door? You use my heart just as you would afford A fatal freedom to some harmless bird, Whom, breeding, you ne'er taught to seek its food; And now let fly to perish in the wood. _Ber._ Then, if you will love on, and disobey, And lose an empire for my sake, you may. Will a kind look from me pay all this score, For you well know you must expect no more? _Por._ All I deserve it will, not all I wish: But I will brave the tyrant's rage for this. If I refuse, my death must needs ensue; But you shall see that I dare die for you. _Ber._ Would you, for me, A beauty, and an empire too deny? I love you now so well--that you shall die. Die mine! 'tis all I can, with honour, give: Nor should you die, if after, I would live. But when your marriage and your death I view, That, makes you false, but this will keep you true. _Por._ Unbind thy brows, and look abroad to see, O mighty love, thy mightiest victory! _Ber._ And yet----is there no other way to try? 'Tis hard to say I love, and let you die. _Por._ Yes, there remains some help which you might give, If you, as I would die for love, would live. _Ber._ If death for love be sweet, sure life is more: Teach me the means your safety to restore. _Por._ Your tyrant the Egyptian princess loves; And to that height his swelling passion moves, That, fearing in your death the soldiers' force, He from your bed does study a divorce. _Ber._ The Egyptian princess I disputing heard, And as a miracle her mind regard. But yet I wish that this divorce be true. [_Gives her hand._ _Por._ 'Tis, madam, but it must be sought by you. By this he will all mutinies prevent; And this as well secures your own content. _Ber._ I hate this tyrant, and his bed I loath; But, once submitting, I am tied to both: Tied to that honour, which all women owe, Though not their husband's person, yet their vow. Something so sacred in that bond there is, That none should think there could be aught amiss: And if there be, we should in silence hide Those faults, which blame our choice, when they are spied. _Por._ But, since to all the world his crimes are known. And by himself the civil war's begun, Would you the advantage of the fight delay, If, striking first, you were to win the day? _Ber._ I would, like Jews upon their sabbath, fall; And, rather than strike first, not strike at all. _Por._ Against yourself you sadly prophecy: You either this divorce must seek, or die. _Ber._ Then death from all my griefs shall set me free. _Por._ And would you rather chuse your death, than me?