28
GONDIBERT,
20.
Nor would I by a total silence yield
My honour ta'ne, though I were pris'ner made;
Lest you should think we may be justly kill'd,
And sacred justice by mistake invade.
Nor would I by a total silence yield
My honour ta'ne, though I were pris'ner made;
Lest you should think we may be justly kill'd,
And sacred justice by mistake invade.
21.
You might perceive (had not a distant war
Hindred our Breasts the use of being known)
My small ambition hardly worth your care;
Unless by it you would correct your own.
You might perceive (had not a distant war
Hindred our Breasts the use of being known)
My small ambition hardly worth your care;
Unless by it you would correct your own.
22.
The King's objected love is but your dream,
As false as that I strive for Rhodalind
As Valour's hire; these sickly visions seem
Which in Ambitions Feaver vex your mind.
The King's objected love is but your dream,
As false as that I strive for Rhodalind
As Valour's hire; these sickly visions seem
Which in Ambitions Feaver vex your mind.
23.
Nor wonder if I vouch, that 'tis not brave
To seek war's hire, though war we still pursue;
Nor censure this a proud excuse to save
These who no safety know, but to subdue.
Nor wonder if I vouch, that 'tis not brave
To seek war's hire, though war we still pursue;
Nor censure this a proud excuse to save
These who no safety know, but to subdue.
24.
Your misbelief my hireless valour scorns;
But your hir'd valour were your faith reclaim'd,
(For faith reclaim'd to highest virtue turns)
Will be of bravest salary asham'd.
Your misbelief my hireless valour scorns;
But your hir'd valour were your faith reclaim'd,
(For faith reclaim'd to highest virtue turns)
Will be of bravest salary asham'd.
25.
Onely with fame Valour of old was hir'd;
And love was so suffic'd with its own taste,
That those intemp'rate seem'd, who more desir'd
For loves reward, than that it self should last.
Onely with fame Valour of old was hir'd;
And love was so suffic'd with its own taste,
That those intemp'rate seem'd, who more desir'd
For loves reward, than that it self should last.
26.
If love, or lust of Empire, breed your pain,
Take what my prudent hope hath still declin'd,
And my weak virtue never could sustain,
The Crown, which is the worst of Rhodalind.
If love, or lust of Empire, breed your pain,
Take what my prudent hope hath still declin'd,
And my weak virtue never could sustain,
The Crown, which is the worst of Rhodalind.
'Tis
