_Arth._ Mistake me not; I count not war a wrong. War is the trade of kings, that fight for empire: And better be a lion, than a sheep. _Osw._ In what, then, have I wronged ye? _Arth._ In my love. _Osw._ Even love's an empire too; the noble soul, Like kings, is covetous of single sway. _Arth._ I blame ye not for loving Emmeline: But, since the soul is free, and love is choice, You should have made a conquest of her mind, And not have forced her person by a rape. _Osw._ Whether by force, or stratagem, we gain, Still gaining is our end, in war, or love. Her mind's the jewel, in her body locked; If I would gain the gem, and want the key, It follows I must seize the cabinet. But, to secure your fear, her honour is untouched. _Arth._ Was honour ever safe in brutal hands? So safe are lambs within the lion's paw; Ungriped and played with, till fierce hunger calls, Then nature shews itself; the close-hid nails Are stretched, and opened, to the panting prey. But if, indeed, you are so cold a lover,-- _Osw._ Not cold, but honourable. _Arth._ Then restore her: That done, I shall believe you honourable. _Osw._ Think'st thou I will forego a victor's right? _Arth._ Say rather, of an impious ravisher. That castle, were it walled with adamant, Can hide thy head but till to-morrow's dawn. _Osw._ And ere to-morrow I may be a god, If Emmeline be kind: but, kind or cruel, I tell thee, Arthur, but to see this day, That heavenly face, though not to have her mine, I would give up a hundred years of life, And bid fate cut to-morrow. _Arth._ It soon will come, and thou repent too late; Which to prevent, I'll bribe thee to be honest. Thy noble head, accustomed to a crown, Shall wear it still, nor shall thy hand forget The scepter's use: from Medway's pleasing stream, To Severn's roar, be thine; In short, restore my love, and share my kingdom. _Osw._ Not though you spread my sway from Thames to Tyber: Such gifts might bribe a king, but not a lover. _Arth._ Then pr'ythee give me back my kingly word, Passed for thy safe return; and let this hour, In single combat, hand to hand, decide The fate of empire, and of Emmeline. _Osw._ Not that I fear do I decline this combat; And not decline it neither, but defer: When Emmeline has been my prize as long As she was thine, I dare thee to the duel. _Arth._ I named your utmost term of life,--to-morrow. _Osw._ You are not fate. _Arth._ But fate is in this arm. You might have made a merit of your theft. _Osw._ Ha! theft! your guards can tell I stole her not. _Arth._ Had I been present,-- _Osw._ Had you been present, she had been mine more nobly. _Arth._ There lies your way.