_Benz._ From whencesoe'er their hate our houses drew,
I blush to tell you, I have none for you.
'Tis a confession which I should not make,
Had I more time to give, or you to take:
But, since death's near, and runs with so much force,
We must meet first, and intercept his course.

_Ozm._ Oh, how unkind a comfort do you give!
Now I fear death again, and wish to live.
Life were worth taking, could I have it now;
But 'tis more good than heaven can e'er allow
To one man's portion, to have life and you.

_Benz._ Sure, at our births,
Death with our meeting planets danced above,
Or we were wounded by a mourning love!-- [_Shouts within._

_Red._ The noise returns, and doubles from behind;
It seems as if two adverse armies joined.--
Time presses us.

_Gaz._ If longer you delay,
We must, though loth, your father's will obey.

_Ozm._ Haste, madam, to fulfil his hard commands.
And rescue me from their ignoble hands.
Let me kiss yours, when you my wound begin,
Then easy death will slide with pleasure in.

_Benz._ Ah, gentle soldiers, some short time allow!