John Dryden

“ When he was young, he taught me truth in love.
Aim. He found more love than he deserved, 'tis true,
And that, it seems, is lucky too to you;
Your father's folly took a headstrong course,
But I'll rule yours, and teach you love by force.
Enter Messenger.
Mess. Arm, arm, O king! the enemy comes on,
A sharp assault already is begun;
Their murdering guns play fiercely on the walls. ”

“ You more would love it, if you valued mine!
Cort. Despatch me quickly, I my death forgive;
I shall grow tender else, and wish to live;
Such an infectious face her sorrow wears,
I can bear death, but not Cydaria's tears.
Alm. Make haste, make haste, they merit death all three:
They for rebellion, and for murder he. ”

“ One only quarter to the assault does yield.
Enter third Messenger.
3 Mess. Some foes are entered, but they are so few,
They only death, not victory, pursue.
Orb. Hark, hark, they shout!
From virtue's rules I do too meanly swerve.
I, by my courage, will your love deserve. ”