Abdelm. You would in vain dissemble love to me;
Through that thin veil your artifice I see. 
You would expect the event, and then declare;
But do not, do not drive me to despair: 
For, if you now refuse with me to fly,
Rather than love you after this, I’ll die;
And, therefore, weigh it well before you speak;
My king is safe, his force within not weak.

Lyndar. The counsel, you have given me, may be wise; But, since the affair is great, I will advise.

Abdelm. Then that delay I for denial take. [Is going.

Lyndar. Stay; you too swift an exposition make. 
If I should go, since Zulema will stay,
I should my brother to the king betray.

Abdelm. There is no fear; but, if there were, I see
You value still your brother more than me.—­
Farewell! some ease I in your falsehood find;
It lets a beam in, that will clear my mind: 
My former weakness I with shame confess,
And, when I see you next, shall love you less. [Is going again.

Lyndar. Your faithless dealings you may blush to tell:  [Weeping.
This is a maid’s reward, who loves too well.—­ [He looks back.
Remember that I drew my latest breath,
In charging your unkindness with my death.

Abdelm. [coming back]
Have I not answered all you can invent,
Even the least shadow of an argument?

Lyndar. You want not cunning what you please to prove,
But my poor heart knows only how to love;
And, finding this, you tyrannize the more: 
’Tis plain, some other mistress you adore;
And now, with studied tricks of subtlety,
You come prepared to lay the fault on me. [Wringing her hands.
But, oh, that I should love so false a man!

Abdelm. Hear me, and then disprove it, if you can.

Lyndar. I’ll hear no more; your breach of faith is plain: 
You would with wit your want of love maintain. 
But, by my own experience, I can tell,
They, who love truly, cannot argue well.—­
Go faithless man! 
Leave me alone to mourn my misery;
I cannot cease to love you, but I’ll die.
                                         [Leans her head on his arm.

Abdelm. What man but I so long unmoved could hear [Weeping.
Such tender passion, and refuse a tear!—­
But do not talk of dying any more,
Unless you mean that I should die before.

Lyndar. I fear your feigned repentance comes too late;
I die, to see you still thus obstinate: 
But yet, in death my truth of love to show,
Lead me; if I have strength enough, I’ll go.

Abdelm. By heaven, you shall not go!  I will not be
O’ercome in love or generosity. 
All I desire, to end the unlucky strife,
Is but a vow, that you will be my wife.