"You may; but 'twill not be your best advice;
'Twill only give me pains of writing twice.
You know you must obey me, soon or late.
Why should you vainly struggle with your fate?"

Poor Arimant seems to be of the same opinion. He mutters
something about fate and free-will, and walks off with the
billet-doux.

In the Indian Emperor, Montezuma presents Almeria with a garland
as a token of his love, and offers to make her his queen. She
replies:--

"I take this garland, not as given by you;
But as my merit's and my beauty's due;
As for the crown which you, my slave, possess,
To share it with you would but make me less."

In return for such proofs of tenderness as these, her admirer
consents to murder his two sons and a benefactor to whom he feels
the warmest gratitude. Lyndaraxa, in the Conquest of Granada,
assumes the same lofty tone with Abdelmelech. He complains that
she smiles upon his rival.

"Lynd. And when did I my power so far resign,
That you should regulate each look of mine?

Abdel. Then, when you gave your love, you gave that power.

Lynd. 'Twas during pleasure--'tis revoked this hour.