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.
Lyndar. To tie me to you by a vow is hard;
It shows, my love you as no tie regard.—
Name any thing but that, and I'll agree.
Abdelm. Swear, then, you never will my rival's be.
Lyndar. Nay, pr'ythee, this is harder than before.—
Name any thing, good dear, but that thing more.