But, till I can,
Imagine what must needs be brought to pass; [_Embraces him._
My heart's not made of marble, nor of brass.
Did I for you a cruel death prepare,
And have you, have you made my life your care!
There is a shame contracted by my faults,
Which hinders me to speak my secret thoughts.
And I will tell you--when the shame's removed--
You are not better by my daughter loved.--
Benzayda be yours.--I can no more.

_Ozm._ Blessed be that breath which does my life restore!
[_Embracing his knees._

_Benz._ I hear my father now; these words confess
That name, and that indulgent tenderness.

_Selin._ Benzayda, I have been too much to blame;
But let your goodness expiate my shame:
You Ozmyn's virtue did in chains adore,
And part of me was just to him before.--
My son!--

_Ozm._ My father!--

_Selin._ Since by you I live,
I, for your sake, your family forgive.
Let your hard father still my life pursue,
I hate not him, but for his hate to you;
Even that hard father yet may one day be