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Show ;. v » • , 2 8 The Indian Emperour: Or, Orb. Still worfe and worfe.'• Cort . Fear not, but follow me, Unon m v Life I'll fet thee fate and free. u pon m y ^ Cxxna ^ hm ^ ar„s To him Vafquez, Pizarro ^Spaniards mthTorc^ Vafq. OSir, thank Heaven, and your brave Indian Friend, That you are fife, Orbellan did intend This night to kill you fleeping in your lent: But Guyomar his trufty Slave has fent, W h o followiug clofehis filent fteps by night, Till in our Camp they both approach'd the light, Cry'd feize the Traytor, feize the Murthcrcr : The cruel Villain fled I know not where, But far he is not, for he this way bent. Piz. Th' inraged Soldiers feek from lent to lent, WTith lighted Torches, and in love to you, With Bloody Vows his hated Life perfue. Vaf. This Meffcnger does fince he came relate, That the Old King, after a long debate, By his imperious Miftrefs blindly led, Has given Cydaria to Orbellan's Bed. Cort. Vafquez, the trufty Slave with you retain, Retire a while, Til call you back again. P?* Vafq. andPiz. Cortez at his Tent door. Cort. Indian, come forth, your Enemies are gone. And I who fav'd you from them here alone ; You hide your Face, as you were ftill afraid, Dare you not look on him who gave you Aid. Enter Orbellan holding his Face afide. Orb. Moon, flip behind fome Cloud, fome 'I empeft rife, And blow out all the Stars that light the Skies, T o throw d m y Shame. Cort. In vain you turn afide, And hide your Face, your N a m e you cannot hide; I know m y Rival, and his black Defign. Orb. Forgive it as m y Paffion's Fault not mine. Cort. In your excufe your Love does little fay, ^ You might howe'er have took a fairer way. Orb. 'Tis true, m y Paffion fmall. defence can make, Yet you muft fpare m e for your Honour's fake ; That was engag'd to fet m e fafe and free. Cort. 'Twas to a Stranger, not an Enemy : Nor is it prudence to prolong thy Breath, When all m y hopes depend upon thy Death Yet none fhall tax m e with bafe Perjury, Something I'll do, both for m y felf and thee? With vow'd Revenge m y Soldiers fearch each Tenr, If thou art feen none can thy Death prevent. Follow m y fteps with Silence and with Hafte. f Exeunt. The Scene changes to the Indian Country, they retu> Cort. N o w you are fafe, you have m y Out-Guards paft. Orb. Then here I take m y leave. Cort. Orbellan, no ; When you return, you to Cydaria go, I'll fend a Meflage. Orb. Let it be expreft, I am in 'hafte. Cort. ru write it in your Breaft. [Draw* Orb. What means m y Rival ? Cort. ~--Either Fight or Die : I'll not ftrain Honour to a Point too high; I fav'd your Life, now keep it if you can, Cyaaria fhall be for the braveft Man. •i The Conqueft of Mexico. © n equal Terms you fhall your Fortune try, Take this, and lay your flint-edg'd Weapon i 'word. I'll arm you for m y Glory, and purfue N o Palm, but what's to Manly Virtue due. Fame with m y Conqueft fhall m y Courage tell, This you fhall gain by placing Love fo well. Orb. Fighting with yon, ungrateful I appear. Cort. Under that fhadow thou wouldft hide thy Fcai Thou wouldft poffefs thy Love at thy return, # And in her Arms m y eafie Virtue fcorn. Orb. Since w e muft fight, no longer let's deht] The Moon fhines clear, and makes a paler Day. [They fight, Orb. is wounded in the Hand, his out of it. Cort. T o Courage, even of Foes, there's Pity due ; It was not I, but Fortune vanquifh'd you: [Throws his Sword again. Thank m e with that, and fo difpute the Prize, As if you fought before Cydaria's Eyes. Orb. I would not poorly fuch a Gift requite, You gave m c not this Sword to yield, but fight : But fee where yours has fore'd its bloody way, M y wounded Hand m y Heart does ill obey. [He ftrives to hold it, but cannot. Cort. Unlucky Honour, that control'ft m y Will! W h y have I vanquifh'd, fince I muft not kill ? Fate fees thy Life lodg'd in a brittle Glafs; And looks it through/ but to it cannot pafs. Orb. All I can do is frankly to confefs, I wifh I could, but cannot love her lefs. T o fwear I would refign her, were but vain, Love would recal that perjur'd Breath again ; And in m y wretched Cafe 'twill be more juft, Not to have promis'd than deceive your Truft. Know, if I live once more to fee the Towm, In bright Cydaria's Arms m y Love I'll crown. Cort. In fpight of that I give thee Liberty, And with thy Perfon leave thy Honour free ; But to thy Wifhes move a fpeedy pace, Or Death will foon o'ertake thee in the Cnace. T o Arms, to Arms, Fate fhows m y Love the way, I'll force the City on thy Nuptial day. [Exeunt fever ally. SCENE III. Mexico. Enter Montezuma, Odmar, Guyomar, Almeria. Mont. It moves my wonder that in two days fpace, This early Famine fprcads fo fwift a pace. Odm. 'Tis, Sir, the general cry, nor feems it ttrange, The Face of Plenty fhould fo fwiftly change ; This City never felt a Siege before, But from the Lake receiv'd its daily ftore, Which now fhut up, and Millions crowded here, Famine will foon in Multitudes appear. Mont. The more the number, ftill the greater Shame Aim. What if fome one fhould feek immortal Fame, By ending of the Siege at one brave Blow ? Mont. That were too happy. Aim. Yet it may be fo. What if the Spanifh General fhould be flain ? Guy. Juft Heaven I hope does otherways ordain. Mont. If flain by Treafon, I lament his Death. Enter Orbellan and whifpers his Sifi> <. Odm. Orbellan feems in hafte, and out of Breath. Mont'. Orbellan welcome, you are early here, A Bridegroom's hafte, does in your looks appear. [Aim •'" *» * *j R 2 |