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Show 14.8 The Indian Emperour: Or, Too mild for thee; tfiere's Pity in that Name, But thou haft loft thy Pity with thy Shame. Aim. Your cruel words have piere'd m e to the Heart; But on m y Rival I'll revenge m y Smart. Cort. Oh, ftay your hand ! and to redeem m y Fault, I'll fpeak the kindeft words That Tongue e'er utter'd, or that Heart e'er thought. Dear Lovely Sweet • Aim. This but offends m e more ; You act your Kindnefs on Cydaria's Score. Cyd. For his dear take let m e m y Life receive. Aim. Fool, for his fake alone you muft not live : Revenge is now m y Joy ; he's not forme, And I'll make fure he ne'r fhall be for thee. Cyd. But what's m y Crime ? Aim. 'Tis loving where I love. Cyd. Your o w n Example does m y Act approve. Aim. 'Tis fuch a Fault I never can forgive. Cyd. H o w can I mend, unlets you let m e live ? I yet am Tender, Young, and full of Fear, And dare not die, but fain would tarry here. Cort. If Blood you feek, I will m y own refign: O fpare her Life, and in exchange take mine. Aim. The Love you fhew but hafts her Death the more. Cort. I'll run, and help to force the inner Door. Us&°**& *n hafte. Aim. Stay, Spaniard, ftay, depart not from m y Eyes: That moment that I lofe your fight fhe dies. T o look on you, I'll grant a fhort Reprieve. Cort. O make your Gift more full, and let her live : I dare not go ; and yet how dare I ftay ? Her I would fave ; I murther either way. Cyd. Can you be fo hard-hearted to deftroy M y ripening Hopes, that are fo near to Joy? I juft approach to all I would poffefs: Death only ftands 'twixt m e and Happinefs. Aim. Your Father, with his Life has loft his Throne : Your Country's Freedom and Renown is gone. Honour requires your Death : you muft obey. Cyd. D o you die firft; and fhew m e then the way. Aim. Should you not follow, m y Revenge were loft. Cyd. Then rife again and fright m e with yourGhoft. Aim. I will not truft to that, fince Death I chufe, I'll not leave you that Life wliich I refute : If Death's a Pain, it is not lefs to m e ; And if'tis nothing, 'tis no more to thee. But hark ! the Noife increafes from behind, They're near, and may prevent what I defign'd : Take there a Rival's Gift [Stabs her Cort. Perdition feize thee for fo black a Deed, Aim. Blame not an Aft which did from Love proceed: 111 thus revenge thee with this fatal Blow; rStabs her filf Stand fair, and let m y Heart-blood on thee flow. J ' Cyd Stay Life, and keep m e in the cheerful Light; Death is too black, and dwells in too much Night 1 hou leav'ft me, Life, but Love fupplies thy part, And keeps m e warm by lingring in m y Heart: Yet dying for him, I thy Claim remove ; H o w dear it cofts to conquer in m y love • Nowftrike ; that thought, I hope, will 'arm m y Breaft. Aim Ah with what differing Paffions a m I preft! Cyd. Death when far off, did terrible appear; But ooks lets dreadful as he comes more near. Aim O Rival I have loft the power to kill j strength hath forfook m y Arm, and Rage m y Will • The Conqueft of Mexico. • . „ ; I muft furmount that Love which thou haft fhown: Dying for him is due to m e alone. Thy weaknefs fhall not boa ft the Victory, N o w thou fhalt live, and dead I'll conquer thee : Soldiers affift m e down. [Exeunt from dove led by Soldi ter, both Cortez. Cort. Is there no danger then ? [J0 Cydaria. Cyd. You need not fear* M y Wound, I cannot die when you are near. Cort. You, for m y fake, Life to Cydaria give; '<? Almc And I could die for you, if you might live. Aim. Enough, I die content, now you are kii Kill'd in m y Limbs, reviving in m y Mind : Come near, Cydaria, and forgive m y Crim [Cydaria fans back'. You need not fear m y Rage a fecond time: I'll bathe your Wounds in Tears for m y Offence: That Hand which made it makes this Recompence. t [Ready to join their hands. I would have join'd you, but m y Heart's too high:" You will, too foon,poffefs him when I die. Cort. She faints, O foftly, fet her down. Aim. 'Tis paft! In thy lov'd Bofom let m e breath m y laft. Here in this one fhort moment that I live, I have what e'er the longeft Life could give-• [Dies. Cort. Farewel, thou generous Maid : ev'n Victory Glad as it is, muft lend fome Tears to thee: ny I dare not fhed, left you believe [To Cydaria. I joy in you lefs than for her I grieve. Cyd. But are you fure She's dead ? I muft embrace you fait, before I know Whether m y Life be yet fecure or no: Some other Hour I will to Tears allow; But having you, can fhew no Sorrow now. [Enter Guyomar and Alib nd with Cort. Prince Guyomar in Bonds! O Friendfhip's Shame! It makes m e blufh to o w n a Victor's Name. [V* ch. Cyd. See, Alibech, Almeria lies there: But do not think 'twas I that murdier'd lier. [Alibech kneels and kiffes her Dead Sifter. Cort. Live and enjoy more than your Conquerour: [To Guyomar. Take all m y Love, and fhare in all m y Power. Guy. Think m e not proudly rude, if I forfake Thofe Gifts I cannot with m y Honour take: I for m y Country fought, and would again, Had I yet left a Country to maintain: But fince the Gods decreed it otherwife, I never will on its dear Ruins rife. Alib. Of all your Goodnefs. leave to our difpofe, Our Liberty's the only Gift w e chufe: Abfence alone can make our Sorrows lefs; And not to fee what w e can ne'er redrefs. -?Guy. Northward, beyond the Mountains, w e will go, Where Rocks lie cover'd with Eternal Snow : Thin Herbage in the Plains and Fruitlefs Fields, The Sand no Gold, the Mine no Silver yields: ;ere Love and Freedom we'll in Peace enjoy ; Spaniards will that Colony deftroy. W e to our felves will all our Withes grant; And nothing coveting can nothing want. . Cort. Firft your Great Father's Funeral Pomp provide: That done, in Peace your Generous Exiles guide. While I loud Thanks pay to the Powers above, Thus doubly bleft with Conqueft and with Love. kJ Hi |