No milder means to set me free?

Inconstancy.

Can nothing else my pains assuage?

Distracting Rage.

What, die or change? Lucinda lose?

O let me rather madness chuse!

But judge, ye gods, what we endure,

When death or madness are a cure!

In the last four lines, Motteux has used more liberty with the thought of the original than is allowable for a translator. It must be owned, however, that he has much improved it.

CARDENIO’S SONG, by Smollet