Queen. Nay, my lord, there's a lady worth the handling:
Sound music then; fill earth with heaven's pleasure.
Cyp. My queen is out of time, though she keep measure.
[Here they dance the first strain.
Epire. Be lucky, villany: hit now the mark[208]
That mine ambition aims at; methinks I see
That lean Italian devil, jealousy,
Dance in his eyes. Possess him, spirit of rage:
Muffle his understanding with black thoughts,
Let passion govern reason, falsehood truth,
Oblivion hide his age, hate kill his youth.
Cyp. Thou dancest on my heart, lascivious queen,
Even as upon these rushes, which thou treadest:[209]
See how her motions wind about his eyes,
And doth present to him her passions:
Now doth her moistening palm glow in his hand,
And courts him unto dalliance. She dies: 'tis just.
She's slave to murder that is slave to lust.
Epire. Thou curse of greatness, waking-ey'd suspicion,
Now help thy poor friends, murder and ambition.
[The first strain ends.
Queen. This strain contain'd a pretty change.
Proceed unto the next. [They dance the second.
Cyp. Sin follows sin, and change on change doth wait;
Thy change doth change my love to cruel hate.