SCENE VII.
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ahomet, _Solus_. Whome'er the hope, still blasted, still renew'd,Of happiness lures on from toil to toil,Remember Mahomet, and cease thy labour.Behold him here, in love, in war, successful;Behold him, wretched in his double triumph!His fav'rite faithless, and his mistress base.Ambition only gave her to my arms,By reason not convinc'd, nor won by love.Ambition was her crime; but meaner follyDooms me to loathe, at once, and dote on falsehood,And idolize th' apostate I contemn.If thou art more than the gay dream of fancy,More than a pleasing sound, without a meaning,O happiness! sure thou art all Aspasia's.
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