_Solym._ Your wrongs are known. Impose but your commands,
This hour shall bring you twenty thousand hands.

_Aur._ Let them, who truly would appear my friends,
Employ their swords, like mine, for noble ends.
No more: Remember you have bravely done;
Shall treason end what loyalty begun?
I own no wrongs; some grievance I confess;
But kings, like gods, at their own time redress.
Yet, some becoming boldness I may use;
I've well deserved, nor will he now refuse. [_Aside._
I'll strike my fortunes with him at a heat,
And give him not the leisure to forget.
[_Exit, attended by the Omrahs._

_Arim._ Oh! Indamora, hide these fatal eyes!
Too deep they wound whom they too soon surprise;
My virtue, prudence, honour, interest, all
Before this universal monarch fall.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray;
Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way?
Pleased with the passage, we slide swiftly on,
And see the dangers which we cannot shun.

_To him_ INDAMORA.

_Ind._ I hope my liberty may reach thus far;
These terrace walks within my limits are.
I came to seek you, and to let you know,
How much I to your generous pity owe.
The king, when he designed you for my guard,
Resolved he would not make my bondage hard:
If otherwise, you have deceived his end;
And whom he meant a guardian, made a friend.

_Arim._ A guardian's title I must own with shame;
But should be prouder of another name.

_Ind._ And therefore 'twas I changed that name before;
I called you friend, and could you wish for more?

_Arim._ I dare not ask for what you would not grant.
But wishes, madam, are extravagant;
They are not bounded with things possible:
I may wish more than I presume to tell.
Desire's the vast extent of human mind;
It mounts above, and leaves poor hope behind.
I could wish--

_Ind._ What?

_Arim._ Why did you speak? you've dashed my fancy quite,
Even in the approaching minute of delight.
I must take breath,
Ere I the rapture of my wish renew,
And tell you then,--it terminates in you.

_Ind._ Have you considered what the event would be?
Or know you, Arimant, yourself, or me?
Were I no queen, did you my beauty weigh,
My youth in bloom, your age in its decay?

_Arim._ I, my own judge, condemned myself before;
For pity aggravate my crime no more!
So weak I am, I with a frown am slain;
You need have used but half so much disdain.

_Ind._ I am not cruel yet to that degr