Guy.  Things good or ill by circumstances be, In you ’tis virtue, what is vice in me.

Alib.  That ill is pardoned, which does good procure.

Guy.  The good’s uncertain, but the ill is sure.

Alib.  When kings grow stubborn, slothful, or unwise, Each private man for public good should rise.

Guy.  Take heed, fair maid, how monarchs you accuse: 
Such reasons none but impious rebels use: 
Those, who to empire by dark paths aspire,
Still plead a call to what they most desire;
But kings by free consent their kingdoms take,
Strict as those sacred ties which nuptials make;
And whate’er faults in princes time reveal,
None can be judge where can be no appeal.

Alib.  In all debates you plainly let me see
You love your virtue best, but Odmar me: 
Go, your mistaken piety pursue: 
I’ll have from him what is denied by you;
With my commands you shall no more be graced. 
Remember, sir, this trial was your last.

Guy.  The gods inspire you with a better mind;
Make you more just, and make you then more kind! 
But though from virtue’s rules I cannot part,
Think I deny you with a bleeding heart: 
’Tis hard with me whatever choice I make;
I must not merit you, or must forsake: 
But, in this strait, to honour I’ll be true,
And leave my fortune to the gods and you.

Enter Messenger privately.

Mess.  Now is the time; be aiding to your fate;
From the watch-tower, above the western-gate,
I have discerned the foe securely lie,
Too proud to fear a beaten enemy: 
Their careless chiefs to the cool grottoes run,
The bowers of kings, to shade them from the sun.

Guy.  Upon thy life disclose thy news to none;
I’ll make the conquest or the shame my own. [Exeunt GUYOMAR and Messenger.

Enter ODMAR.

Alib.  I read some welcome message in his eye: 
Prince Odmar comes:  I’ll see if he’ll deny.—­
Odmar, I come to tell you pleasing news;
I begged a thing, your brother did refuse.

Odm.  The news both pleases me, and grieves me too; For nothing, sure, should be denied to you:  But he was blessed who might commanded be; You never meant that happiness to me.

Alib.  What he refused, your kindness might bestow, But my commands, perhaps, your burden grow.

Odm.  Could I but live till burdensome they prove,
My life would be immortal as my love. 
Your wish, ere it receive a name, I grant.

Alib.  ’Tis to relieve your dying country’s want;
All hopes of succour from your arms is past,
To save us now you must our ruin haste;
Give up the town, and, to oblige him more. 
The captive general’s liberty restore.

Odm.  You speak to try my love; can you forgive So soon, to let your brother’s murderer live?