e.
[_They fight,_ ABDALLA _falls._

_Abdelm._ Now ask your life.

_Abdal._ 'Tis gone; that busy thing,
The soul, is packing up, and just on wing,
Like parting swallows, when they seek the spring:
Like them, at its appointed time, it goes,
And flies to countries more unknown than those.

_Enter_ LYNDARAXA _hastily, sees them, and is going out again._
ABDELMELECH _stops her._

_Abdelm._ No, you shall stay, and see a sacrifice,
Not offered by my sword, but by your eyes.
From those he first ambitious poison drew,
And swelled to empire from the love of you.
Accursed fair!
Thy comet-blaze portends a prince's fate;
And suffering subjects groan beneath thy weight.

_Abdal._ Cease, rival, cease!
I would have forced you, but it wonnot be;
I beg you now, upbraid her not for me.
You, fairest, to my memory be kind! [_To_ LYNDAR.
Lovers like me your sex will seldom find.
When I usurped a crown for love of you,
I then did more, than, dying, now I do.
I'm still the same as when my love begun;
And, could I now this fate foresee or shun,
Would yet do all I have already done. [_Dies._
[_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._

_Abdelm._ Weep on, weep on, for it becomes you now;
These tears you to that love may well allow.
His unrepenting soul, if it could move
Upward in crimes, flew spotted with your love;
And brought contagion to the blessed above.

_Lyndar._ He's gone, and peace go with a constant mind!
His love deserved I should have been more kind;
But then your love and greater worth I knew:
I was unjust to him, but just to you.

_Abdelm._ I was his enemy, and rival too,
Yet I some tears to his misfortune owe:
You owe him more; weep then, and join with me:
So much is due even to humanity.

_Lyndar._ Weep for this wretch, whose memory I hate!
Whose folly made us both unfortunate!
Weep for this fool, who did my laughter move!
This whining, tedious, heavy lump of love!

_Abdelm._ Had fortune favoured him, and frowned on me,
I then had been that heavy fool, not he:
Just this had been my funeral elegy.
Thy arts and falsehood I before did know,
But this last baseness was concealed till now;
And 'twas no more than needful to be known;
I could be cured by such an act alone.
My love, half blasted, yet in time would shoot;
But this last tempest rends it to the root.

_Lyndar._ These little piques, whi