uel's were preserved.

_Enter the Pirates, retreating before GONSALVO, &c_.

_1 Pirate_. All's lost! they fight like devils, and our captain
Yet sleeping in his bed.

_2 Pirate_. Here lies Don Roderick;
If we must die, we'll not leave him behind.

[_Goes to kill him_.

_Jul_. O, spare my Roderick's life; and, in exchange,
Take mine! I put myself within your power,
To save or kill.

_1 Pirate_. So, here's another pawn,
For all our safeties.

_Man_. Heaven! what has she done?

_Gons_. Let go the lady, or expect no mercy!--The
least drop of her blood is worth all yours.
And mine together.

_1 Pirate_. I am glad you think so:--
Either deliver up your sword, or mine
Shall pierce her heart this moment.

_Gons_. Here, here, take it.

_Man_. You are not mad, to give away all hopes

[_MANUEL holds him_

Of safety and defence, from us, from her,
And from yourself, at once!

_Gons_. When she is dead,
What is there worth defending?

_Man_. Will you trust
A pirate's promise, sooner than your valour?

_Gons_. Any thing, rather than see her in danger.

_1 Pirate_. Nay, if you dispute the matter!--

[_Holds his sword to her breast_.

_Gons_. I yield, I yield!--Reason to love must bow:
Love, that gives courage, can make cowards too!

[_Gives his sword_.

_Jul_. O, strange effect of a most generous passion!

_Rod_. His enemies themselves must needs admire it.

_Man_. Nay, if Gonsalvo makes a fashion of it,
'Twill be valour to die tamely. [_Gives his_.

_Hip_. I am for dying too with my dear master.

_Amid_. My life will go as easily as a fly's;
The least fillip does it in this fright.

_1 Pirate_. One call our captain up: Tell him, he
deserves little of the booty.

_Jul_. It has so much prevailed upon my soul,
I ever must acknowledge it. [_To GONS_.

_Rod_. Julia has reason, if she love him; yet,
I find I cannot bear it. [_Aside_.

_Gons_. Say but, you love me; I am more than
paid.

_Jul_. You ask that only thing, I cannot give;--
Were I not Roderick's first, I should be yours;
My violent love for him, I know, is faulty;
Yet passion never can be placed so ill,
But that to change it is the greater crime.
Inconstancy is such a guilt, as makes
That very love suspected, which it brings;
It brings a gift, but 'tis of ill-got wealth,
The spoils of some forsaken lover's heart.
Love, altered once, like blood let out before,
Will lose its virtue, and can cure no more.

_Gons_. In those few min