And, though no hope of liberty remain,
I'll fright my keeper when I shake my chain.
You are-- [_Angrily._

_Almah._ I know I am your captive, sir.

_Almanz._ You are--You shall--And I can scarce forbear--

_Almah._ Alas!

_Almanz._ 'Tis all in vain; it will not do: [_Aside._
I cannot now a seeming anger show:
My tongue against my heart no aid affords;
For love still rises up, and choaks my words.

_Almah._ In half this time a tempest would be still.

_Almanz._ 'Tis you have raised that tempest in my will.
I wonnot love you; give me back my heart;
But give it, as you had it, fierce and brave.
It was not made to be a woman's slave,
But, lion-like, has been in desarts bred,
And, used to range, will ne'er be tamely led.
Restore its freedom to my fettered will,
And then I shall have power to use you ill.

_Almah._ My sad condition may your pity move;
But look not on me with the eyes of love:--
I must be brief, though I have much to say.