Alm.  Why should you blush? she saw you kiss my hand.

Cyd.  Fear not; I will, while your first love’s denied,
Favour your shame, and turn my eyes aside;
My feeble hopes in her deserts are lost: 
I neither can such power nor beauty boast: 
I have no tie upon you to be true,
But that, which loosened yours, my love to you.

Cort.  Could you have heard my words!

Cyd.—­Alas, what needs To hear your words, when I beheld your deeds?

Cort.  What shall I say? the fate of love is such,
That still it sees too little or too much. 
That act of mine, which does your passion move,
Was but a mark of my respect, not love.

Alm.  Vex not yourself excuses to prepare:  For one, you love not, is not worth your care.

Cort.  Cruel Almeria, take that life you gave; Since you but worse destroy me, while you save.

Cyd.  No, let me die, and I’ll my claim resign; For while I live, methinks, you should be mine.

Cort.  The bloodiest vengeance, which she could pursue, Would be a trifle to my loss of you.

Cyd.  Your change was wise:  for, had she been denied,
A swift revenge had followed from her pride: 
You from my gentle nature had no fears,
All my revenge is only in my tears.

Cort.  Can you imagine I so mean could prove, To save my life by changing of my love?

Cyd.  Since death is that which naturally we shun, You did no more than I, perhaps, had done.

Cort.  Make me not doubt, fair soul, your constancy; You would have died for love, and so would I.

Alm.  You may believe him; you have seen it proved.

Cort.  Can I not gain belief how I have loved? 
What can thy ends, malicious beauty, be: 
Can he, who kill’d thy brother, live for thee?

[A noise of clashing of swords. [VASQUEZ within, Indians against him.

Vasq.  Yield, slaves, or die; our swords shall force our way. [Within.

Ind.  We cannot, though o’er-powered, our trust betray. [Within.

Cort.  ’Tis Vasquez’s voice, he brings me liberty.

Vasq.  In spite of fate I’ll set my general free; [Within. 
Now victory for us, the town’s our own.

Alm.  All hopes of safety and of love are gone: 
As when some dreadful thunder-clap is nigh,
The winged fire shoots swiftly through the sky,
Strikes and consumes, ere scarce it does appear,
And by the sudden ill prevents the fear: 
Such is my state in this amazing woe,
It leaves no power to think, much less to do. 
—­But shall my rival live, shall she enjoy
That love in peace, I laboured to destroy? [Aside.

Cort.  Her looks grow black as a tempestuous wind; Some raging thoughts are rolling in her mind.