But if engag'd———Recall the fatal Breath
That spoke that Word the Sound is instant Death.
Ori. Too late to be recall'd, or to deny,
I own the fatal Truth; if one must die,
You are the Judge; say is it you, or I?
Enter hastily a Briton.
Brit. The King is much displeas'd at this Delay.
Con. And let him wait, while 'tis my Will to stay.
Ori. Bear back a gentler Answer—We'll obey.
Con. Hence ev'ry Sound that's either soft or kind;
Of or a War like that within my Mind:
Yes, by the Gods! I cou'd to Atoms tear,
Confound Mankind, and all the World—but her,
Say, Flatterer, say! ah, fair Deluder, speak,
Answer me this, ere yet my Heart does break;
Since thus engag'd, you never cou'd intend
Your Love, why was I flatter'd with your Hand?
Ori. To what a Father and a King thinks fit,
A Daughter and a Subject must submit.
Think not from Tyranny that Love can grow;
I am a Slave, and you have made me so.
Those Chains that Duty have put on, remove;
Slaves may obey, but they can never love.
Con. Cruel Oriana, much you wrong'd my Flame,
To think that I could say so harsh a Claim.
Page:Poems upon Several Occasions.djvu/156
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144
The British Enchanters.
Love