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 degree;
Have better thoughts both of yourself and me. 
Beauty a monarch is,
Which kingly power magnificently proves,
By crowds of slaves, and peopled empire loves: 
And such a slave as you what queen would lose? 
Above the rest, I Arimant would chuse,
For counsel, valour, truth, and kindness too;
All I could wish in man, I find in you.

Arim. What lover could to greater joy be raised?  I am, methinks, a god, by you thus praised.

Ind. To what may not desert like yours pretend?  You have all qualities, that fit a friend.

Arim. So mariners mistake the promised coast;
And, with full sails, on the blind rocks are lost. 
Think you my aged veins so faintly beat,
They rise no higher than to friendship’s heat? 
So weak your charms, that, like a winter’s night,
Twinkling with stars, they freeze me, while they light?