Part 21

_Mont_. All is lost!-- Our foes with lightning and with thunder fight; My men in vain shun death by shameful flight: For deaths invisible come winged with fire, They hear a dreadful noise, and strait expire. Take, gods! that soul, ye did in spite create, And made it great, to be unfortunate: Ill fate for me unjustly you provide, Great souls are sparks of your own heavenly pride: That lust of power we from your godheads have, You're bound to please those appetites you gave.

_Enter_ Vasquez _and_ Pizarro, _with Spaniards._

_Vasq_. Pizarro, I have hunted hard to-day, Into our toils, the noblest of the prey; Seize on the king, and him your prisoner make, While I, in kind revenge, my taker take.

[Pizarro, _with two, goes to attack the king_. Vasquez, _with another, to seize_ Alibech.

_Guy_. Their danger is alike;--whom shall I free?

_Odm_. I'll follow love!

_Guy_. I'll follow piety!

[Odmar _retreats from_ Vasquez, _with_ Alibech, _off the stage_; Guyomar _fights for his father_.

_Guy_. Fly, sir! while I give back that life you gave; Mine is well lost, if I your life can save.

[Montezuma _fights off_; Guyomar, _making his retreat, stays_.

_Guy_. Tis more than man can do to scape them all; Stay, let me see where noblest I may fall.

[_He runs at_ Vasquez, _is seized behind and taken_.

_Vasq_. Conduct him off, And give command, he strictly guarded be.

_Guy_. In vain are guards, death sets the valiant free.

[_Exit_ Guyomar, _with guards_.

_Vasq_. A glorious day! and bravely was it fought; Great fame our general in great dangers sought; From his strong arm I saw his rival run, And, in a crowd, the unequal combat shun.

_Enter_ Cortez _leading_ Cydaria, _who seems crying and begging of him_.

_Cort_. Man's force is fruitless, and your gods would fail To save the city, but your tears prevail; I'll of my fortune no advantage make, Those terms, they had once given, they still may take.

_Cyd_. Heaven has of right all victory designed, Where boundless power dwells in a will confined; Your Spanish honour does the world excel.

_Cort_. Our greatest honour is in loving well.

_Cyd_. Strange ways you practise there, to win a heart; Here love is nature, but with you 'tis art.

_Cort_. Love is with us as natural as here, But fettered up with customs more severe. In tedious courtship we declare our pain, And, ere we kindness find, first meet disdain.

_Cyd_. If women love, they needless pains endure; Their pride and folly but delay their cure.

_Cort_. What you miscall their folly, is their care; They know how fickle common lovers are: Their oaths and vows are cautiously believed, For few there are but have been once deceived.

_Cyd_. But if they are not trusted when they vow, What other marks of passion can they show?

_Cort_. With feasts, and music, all that brings delight, Men treat their ears, their palates, and their sight.

_Cyd_. Your gallants, sure, have little eloquence, Failing to move the soul, they court the sense: With pomp, and trains, and in a crowd they woo, When true felicity is but in two; But can such toys your women's passions move? This is but noise and tumult, 'tis not love.

_Cort_. I have no reason, madam, to excuse Those ways of gallantry, I did not use; My love was true, and on a nobler score.

_Cyd_. Your love, alas! then have you loved before?

_Cort_. 'Tis true I loved, but she is dead, she's dead; And I should think with her all beauty fled, Did not her fair resemblance live in you, And, by that image, my first flames renew.

_Cyd_. Ah! happy beauty, whosoe'er thou art! Though dead, thou keep'st possession of his heart; Thou makest me jealous to the last degree, And art my rival in his memory: Within his memory! ah, more than so, Thou livest and triumph'st o'er Cydaria too.

_Cort_. What strange disquiet has uncalmed your breast, Inhuman fair, to rob the dead of rest!-- Poor heart! she slumbers in her silent tomb; Let her possess in peace that narrow room.

_Cyd_. Poor heart!--he pities and bewails her death!-- Some god, much hated soul, restore thy breath, That I may kill thee; but, some ease 'twill be, I'll kill myself for but resembling thee.

_Cort_. I dread your anger, your disquiet fear, But blows, from hands so soft, who would not bear? So kind a passion why should I remove? Since jealousy but shows how well we love. Yet jealousy so strange I never knew; Can she, who loves me not, disquiet you? For in the grave no passions fill the breast, 'Tis all we gain by death, to be at rest.

_Cyd_. That she no longer loves, brings no relief; Your love to her still lives, and that's my grief.

_Cort_. The object of desire once ta'en away, 'Tis then not love, but pity, which we pay.

_Cyd_. 'Tis such a pity I should never have, When I must lie forgotten in the grave; I meant to have obliged you, when I died, That, after me, you should love none beside.-- But you are false already.

_Cort_. If untrue, By heaven! my falsehood is to her, not you.

_Cyd_. Observe, sweet heaven, how falsely he does swear!-- You said, you loved me for resembling her.

_Cort_. That love was in me by resemblance bred, But shows you cheared my sorrows for the dead.

_Cyd_. You still repeat the greatness of your grief.

_Cort_. If that was great, how great was the relief!

_Cyd_. The first love still the strongest we account.

_Cort_. That seems more strong which could the first surmount: But if you still continue thus unkind, Whom I love best, you, by my death, shall find.

_Cyd_. If you should die, my death shall yours pursue; But yet I am not satisfied you're true.

_Cort_. Hear me, ye gods! and punish him you hear, If aught within the world I hold so dear.

_Cyd_. You would deceive the gods and me; she's dead, And is not in the world, whose love I dread.-- Name not the world; say, nothing is so dear.

_Cort_. Then nothing is,--let that secure your fear.

_Cyd_. 'Tis time must wear it off, but I must go. Can you your constancy in absence show?

_Cort_. Misdoubt my constancy, and do not try, But stay, and keep me ever in your eye.

_Cyd_. If as a prisoner I were here, you might Have then insisted on a conqueror's right, And staid me here; but now my love would be The effect of force, and I would give it free.

_Cort_. To doubt your virtue, or your love, were sin! Call for the captive prince, and bring him in.

_Enter_ Guyomar, _bound and sad_.

You look, sir, as your fate you could not bear: [_To_ Guy. Are Spanish fetters, then, so hard to wear? Fortune's unjust, she ruins oft the brave, And him, who should be victor, makes the slave.

_Guy_. Son of the sun! my fetters cannot be But glorious for me, since put on by thee; The ills of love, not those of fate, I fear; These can I brave, but those I cannot bear: My rival brother, while I'm held in chains, In freedom reaps the fruit of all my pains.

_Cort_. Let it be never said that he, whose breast Is filled with love, should break a lover's rest.-- Haste! lose no time!--your sister sets you free:-- And tell the king, my generous enemy, I offer still those terms he had before, Only ask leave his daughter to adore.

_Guy_. Brother, (that name my breast shall ever own, [_He embraces him_. The name of foe be but in battles known;) For some few days all hostile acts forbear, That, if the king consents, it seem not fear: His heart, is noble, and great souls must be Most sought and courted in adversity.-- Three days, I hope, the wished success will tell.

_Cyd_. Till that long time,--

_Cort_. Till that long time, farewell.

[_Exeunt severally_.

## ACT III.

## SCENE I.--_A Chamber Royal_.

_Enter_ ODMAR _and_ ALIBECH.

_Odm_. The gods, fair Alibech, had so decreed, Nor could my valour against fate succeed; Yet though our army brought not conquest home, I did not from the fight inglorious come: If, as a victor, you the brave regard, Successless courage, then, may hope reward; And I, returning safe, may justly boast, To win the prize which my dear brother lost.

_Enter_ GUYOMAR _behind him_.

_Guy_. No, no, thy brother lives! and lives to be A witness, both against himself and thee; Though both in safety are returned again, I blush to ask her love for vanquished men.

_Odm_. Brother, I'll not dispute but you are brave; Yet I was free, and you, it seems, a slave.

_Guy_. Odmar, 'tis true that I was captive led; As publicly 'tis known, as that you fled: But of two shames, if she must one partake, I think the choice will not be hard to make.

_Odm_. Freedom and bondage in her choice remain; Darest thou expect she will put on thy chain?

_Guy_. No, no, fair Alibech, give him the crown, My brother is returned with high renown: He thinks by flight his mistress must be won, And claims the prize, because he best did run.

_Alib_. Your chains were glorious, and your flight was wise, But neither have o'ercome your enemies: My secret wishes would my choice decide, But open justice bends to neither side.

_Odm_. Justice already does my right approve, If him, who loves you most, you most should love. My brother poorly from your aid withdrew, But I my father left, to succour you.

_Guy_. Her country she did to herself prefer, Him who fought best, not who defended her; Since she her interest, for the nation's, waved, Then I, who saved the king, the nation saved. You, aiding her, your country did betray; I, aiding him, did her commands obey.

_Odm_. Name it no more; in love there is a time When dull obedience is the greatest crime. She to her country's use resigned your sword, And you, kind lover, took her at her word; You did your duty to your love prefer, Seek your reward from duty, not from her.

_Guy_. In acting what my duty did require, 'Twas hard for me to quit my own desire; That fought for her, which, when I did subdue, 'Twas much the easier task I left to you.

_Alib_. Odmar a more than common love has shown, And Guyomar's was greater, or was none; Which I should chuse, some god direct my breast. The certain good, or the uncertain best.-- I cannot chuse,--you both dispute in vain,-- Time and your future acts must make it plain; First raise the siege, and set your country free, I, not the judge, but the reward, will be.

_To them, Enter_ MONTEZUMA, _talking with_ ALMERIA _and_ ORBELLAN.

_Mont_. Madam, I think, with reason, I extol The virtue of the Spanish general; When all the gods our ruin have foretold, Yet generously he does his arms withhold, And, offering peace, the first conditions make.

_Alm_. When peace is offered, 'tis too late to take; For one poor loss, to stoop to terms like those!-- Were we o'ercome, what could they worse impose? Go, go, with homage your proud victors meet! Go, lie like dogs beneath your masters' feet! Go, and beget them slaves to dig their mines, And groan for gold, which now in temples shines! Your shameful story shall record of me, The men all crouched, and left a woman free!

_Guy_. Had I not fought, or durst not fight again, I my suspected counsel should refrain; For I wish peace, and any terms prefer, Before the last extremities of war. We but exasperate those we cannot harm, And fighting gains us but to die more warm: If that be cowardice, which dares not see The insolent effects of victory, The rape of matrons, and their childrens cries,-- Then I am fearful, let the brave advise.

_Odm_. Keen cutting swords, and engines killing far, Have prosperously begun a doubtful war: But now our foes with less advantage fight, Their strength decreases with our Indians' fright.

_Mont_. This noble vote does with my wish comply,-- I am for war.

_Alm_. And so am I.

_Orb_. And I.

_Mont_. Then send to break the truce, and I'll take care To chear the soldiers, and for fight prepare.

[_Exeunt_ MONT. ODM. GUY. _and_ ALIB.

_Alm_. to _Orb_. 'Tis now the hour which all to rest allow, And sleep sits heavy upon every brow; In this dark silence softly leave the town, [GUYOMAR _returns, and hears them_. And to the general's tent,--'tis quickly known,-- Direct your steps: You may despatch him: strait, Drowned in his sleep, and easy for his fate: Besides, the truce will make the guards more slack.

_Orb_. Courage, which leads me on, will bring me back.-- But I more fear the baseness of the thing: Remorse, you know, bears a perpetual sting.

_Alm_. For mean remorse no room the valiant find, Repentance is the virtue of weak minds; For want of judgment keeps them doubtful still, They may repent of good, who can of ill; But daring courage makes ill actions good, 'Tis foolish pity spares a rival's blood; You shall about it strait.

[_Exeunt_ ALM. _and_ ORB.

_Guy_. Would they betray His sleeping virtue, by so mean a way!-- And yet this Spaniard is our nation's foe,-- I wish him dead,--but cannot wish it so;-- Either my country never must be freed, Or I consenting to so black a deed.-- Would chance had never led my steps this way! Now if he dies, I murder him, not they;-- Something must be resolved ere 'tis too late;-- He gave me freedom, I'll prevent his fate.

[_Exit_.

## SCENE II.--_A Camp_.

_Enter CORTEZ alone, in a night-gown_.

_Cort_. All things are hushed, as nature's self lay dead; The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head; The little birds, in dreams, their songs repeat, And sleeping flowers beneath the night-dew sweat. Even lust and envy sleep; yet love denies Rest to my soul, and slumber to my eyes.-- Three days I promised to attend my doom, And two long days and nights are yet to come:-- 'Tis sure the noise of some tumultuous fight, [_Noise within_. They break the truce, and sally out by night.

_Enter_ ORBELLAN, _flying in the dark, his sword drawn_.

_Orb_. Betrayed! pursued! O, whither shall I fly? See, see! the just reward of treachery!-- I'm sure among the tents, but know not where; Even night wants darkness to secure my fear.

[_Comes near_ CORTEZ, _who hears him_.

_Cort_. Stand! who goes there?

_Orb_. Alas, what shall I say?-- [_Aside_. A poor Taxallan that mistook his way, And wanders in the terrors of the night.

_Cort_. Soldier, thou seem'st afraid; whence comes thy fright?

_Orb_. The insolence of Spaniards caused my fear, Who in the dark pursued me entering here.

_Cort_. Their crimes shall meet immediate punishment, But stay thou safe within the general's tent.

_Orb_. Still worse and worse.

_Cort_. Fear not, but follow me; Upon my life I'll set thee safe and free.

[CORTEZ _leads him in, and returns. To him_ VASQUEZ, PIZARRO, _and Spaniards with Torches_.

_Vasq_. O sir, thank heaven, and your brave Indian friend, That you are safe; Orbellan did intend This night to kill you sleeping in your tent: But Guyomar his trusty slave has sent, Who, following close his silent steps by night, Till in our camp they both approached the light, Cried-_Seize the traitor, seize the murtherer_! The cruel villain fled I know not where; But far he is not, for he this way bent.

_Piz_. The enraged soldiers seek, from tent to tent, With lighted torches, and in love to you, With bloody vows his hated life pursue.

_Vasq_. This messenger does, since he came, relate, That the old king, after a long debate, By his imperious mistress blindly led, Has given Cydaria to Orbellan's bed.

_Cort_. Vasquez, the trusty slave with you retain; Retire a while, I'll call you back again. [_Exeunt_ VASQ. _and_ PIZ. CORTEZ _at his tent door_. Indian, come forth; your enemies are gone, And I, who saved you from them, here alone.

_Enter ORBELLAN, holding his face aside_.

You hide your face, as you were still afraid: Dare you not look on him, who gave you aid?

_Orb_. Moon, slip behind some cloud, some tempest, rise, And blow out all the stars that light the skies, To shrowd my shame!

_Cort_. In vain you turn aside, And hide your face; your name you cannot hide: I know my rival and his black design.

_Orb_. Forgive it, as my passion's fault, not mine.

_Cort_. In your excuse your love does little say; You might, howe'er, have took a fairer way.

_Orb_. 'Tis true, my passion small defence can make; Yet you must spare me for your honour's sake, That was engaged to set me safe and free.

_Cort_. 'Twas to a stranger, not an enemy: Nor is it prudence to prolong thy breath, When all my hopes depend upon thy death; Yet none shall tax me with base perjury: Something I'll do, both for myself and thee; With vowed revenge my soldiers search each tent, If thou art seen, none can thy death prevent; Follow my steps with silence and with haste.

## SCENE III.

_They go out, the Scene changes to the Indian Country, they return_.

_Cort_. Now you are safe, you have my outguards past.

_Orb_. Then here I take my leave.

_Cort_. Orbellan, no; When you return, you to Cydaria go: I'll send a message.

_Orb_. Let it be exprest; I am in haste.

_Cort_. I'll write it in your breast.

[_Draws_.

_Orb_. What means my rival?

_Cort_. Either fight or die, I'll not strain honour to a point too high; I saved your life, and keep it if you can, Cydaria shall be for the bravest man; On equal terms you shall your fortune try, Take this, and lay your flint-edged weapon by; [_Gives him a sword_. I'll arm you for my glory, and pursue No palm, but what's to manly virtue due. Fame, with my conquest, shall my courage tell. This you shall gain, by placing love so well.

_Orb_. Fighting with you, ungrateful I appear.

_Cort_. Under that shadow, thou would'st hide thy fear: Thou would'st possess thy love at thy return, And in her arms my easy virtue scorn.

_Orb_. Since we must fight, no longer let's delay; The moon shines clear, and makes a paler day.

[_They fight_, ORBELLAN_ is wounded in the hand, his sword falls out of it_.

_Cort_. To courage, even of foes, there's pity due; It was not I, but fortune, vanquished you: [_Throws his sword again_. Thank me with that, and so dispute the prize, As if you fought before Cydaria's eyes.

_Orb_. I would not poorly such a gift requite; You gave me not this sword to yield, but fight: [_He strives to hold it, but cannot_. But see, where yours has forced its bloody way; My wounded hand my heart does ill obey.

_Cort_. Unlucky honour, that controul'st my will? Why have I vanquished, since I must not kill? Fate sees thy life lodged in a brittle glass, And looks it through, but to it cannot pass.

_Orb_. All I can do is frankly to confess,-- I wish I could, but cannot, love her less: To swear I would resign her, were but vain, Love would recal that perjured breath again; And in my wretched case, 'twill be more just, Not to have promised, than deceive your trust. Know, if I live once more to see the town, In bright Cydaria's arms my love I'll crown.

_Cort_. In spite of that, I give thee liberty, And with thy person leave thy honour free; But to thy wishes move a speedy pace, Or death will soon o'ertake thee in the chase.-- To arms, to arms; fate shows my love the way, I'll force the city on thy nuptial day.

[_Exeunt severally_.

## SCENE IV.--Mexico.

_Enter_ MONTEZUMA, ODMAR, GUYOMAR, ALMERIA.

_Mont_. It moves my wonder, that in two days space, This early famine spreads so swift a pace.

_Odm_. 'Tis, sir, the general cry; nor seems it strange, The face of plenty should so swiftly change: This city never felt a siege before, But from the lake received its daily store; Which now shut up, and millions crowded here, Famine will soon in multitudes appear.

_Mont_. The more the number, still the greater shame.

_Alm_. What if some one should seek immortal fame, By ending of the siege at one brave blow?

_Mont_. That were too happy!

_Alm_. Yet it may be so. What if the Spanish general should be slain?

_Guy_. Just heavens I hope, does otherwise ordain.

[_Aside_.

_Mont_. If slain by treason, I lament his death.

_Enter_ ORBELLAN, _and whispers his sister_.

_Odm_. Orbellan seems in haste, and out of breath.

_Mont_. Orbellan, welcome; you are early here, A bridegroom's haste does in your looks appear.

[ALMERIA _aside to her brother_.

_Alm_. Betrayed! no, 'twas thy cowardice and fear; He had not 'scaped with life, had I been there: But since so ill you act a brave design, Keep close your shame;--fate makes the next turn mine.

_Enter_ ALIBECH _and_ CYDARIA.

_Alib_. O sir, if ever pity touched your breast, Let it be now to your own blood exprest: In tears your beauteous daughter drowns her sight, Silent as dews that fall in dead of night.

_Cyd_. To your commands I strict obedience owe, And my last act of it I come to show: I want the heart to die before your eyes, But grief will finish that which fear denies.

_Alm_. Your will should by your father's precept move.

_Cyd_. When he was young, he taught me truth in love.

_Alm_. He found more love than he deserved, 'tis true, And that, it seems, is lucky too to you; Your father's folly took a headstrong course, But I'll rule yours, and teach you love by force.

_Enter Messenger_.

_Mess_. Arm, arm, O king! the enemy comes on, A sharp assault already is begun; Their murdering guns play fiercely on the walls.

_Odm_. Now, rival, let us run where honour calls.

_Guy_. I have discharged what gratitude did owe, And the brave Spaniard is again my foe.

[_Exeunt_ ODMAR _and_ GUYOMAR.

_Mont_. Our walls are high, and multitudes defend: Their vain attempt must in their ruin end; The nuptials with my presence shall be graced.

_Alib_. At least but stay 'till the assault be past.

_Alm_. Sister, in vain you urge him to delay, The king has promised, and he shall obey.

_Enter second Messenger_.

_2 Mess_. From several parts the enemy's repelled, One only quarter to the assault does yield.

_Enter third Messenger_.

_3 Mess_. Some foes are entered, but they are so few, They only death, not victory, pursue.

_Orb_. Hark, hark, they shout! From virtue's rules I do too meanly swerve, I, by my courage, will your love deserve.

[_Exit_.

_Mont_. Here, in the heart of all the town, I'll stay; And timely succour, where it wants, convey.

_A noise within. Enter_ ORBELLAN, _Indians driven in_, CORTEZ _after them, and one or two Spaniards_.

_Cort_. He's found, he's found! degenerate coward, stay: Night saved thee once, thou shalt not scape by day.

[_Kills_ ORBELLAN.

_Orb_. O, I am killed--

[_Dies_.

_Enter_ GUYOMAR _and_ ODMAR.

_Guy_. Yield, generous stranger, and preserve your life; Why chuse you death in this unequal strife?

[_He is beset_.

[ALMERIA _and_ ALIBECH _fall on_ ORBELLAN'S _body_.

_Cort_. What nobler fate could any lover meet? I fall revenged, and at my mistress' feet.