Chapter 32

_sleeping in prison_.

_Enter_ TRAXALLA _leading in_ ORAZIA.

_Trax_. Now take your choice, and bid him live or die; To both shew pity, or shew cruelty: 'Tis you that must condemn, I'll only act; Your sentence is more cruel than my fact.

_Oraz_. You are most cruel, to disturb a mind, Which to approaching fate was so resigned.

_Trax_. Reward my passion, and you'll quickly prove There's none dare sacrifice what I dare love. Next to thee, stranger; wake, and now resign The bold pretences of thy love to mine, Or in this fatal minute thou shalt find--

_Mont_. Death, fool; in that thou may'st be just and kind: 'Twas I that loved Orazia, yet did raise The storm, in which she sinks: Why dost thou gaze, Or stay thy hand from giving that just stroke, Which, rather than prevent, I would provoke? When I am dead, Orazia may forgive; She never must, if I dare wish to live.

_Oraz_. Hold, hold--O Montezuma, can you be So careless of yourself, but more of me? Though you have brought me to this misery, I blush to say I cannot see you die.

_Mont_. Can my approaching fate such pity move? The gods and you at once forgive and love.

_Trax_. Fond fool, thus to mis-spend that little breath I lent thee to prevent, not hasten, death: Let her thank you she was unfortunate, And you thank her for pulling on your fate; Prove to each other your own destinies. [_Draws_.

_Enter_ ZEMPOALLA _hastily, and sets a dagger to_ ORAZIA'S _breast._

_Zemp_. Hold, hold, Traxalla, or Orazia dies.-- O, is't Orazia's name that makes you stay? 'Tis her great power, not mine, that you obey. Inhuman wretch, dar'st thou the murderer be Of him, that is not yet condemned by me?

_Trax_. The wretch, that gave you all the power you have, May venture sure to execute a slave; And quench a flame your fondness would have burn, Which may this city into ashes turn, The nation in your guilty passion lost; To me ungrateful, to your country most: But this shall be their offering, I their priest.

_Zemp_. The wounds, thou giv'st, I'll copy on her breast: Strike, and I'll open here a spring of blood, Shall add new rivers to the crimson flood. How his pale looks are fixed on her!--'tis so. Oh, does amazement on your spirits grow? What, is your public love Orazia's grown? Could'st thou see mine, and yet not hide thy own? Suppose I should strike first, would it not breed Grief in your public heart to see her bleed?

_Trax_. She mocks my passion; in her sparkling eyes Death, and a close dissembled fury lies: I dare not trust her thus. [_Aside_.]--If she must die, The way to her loved life through mine shall lie.

[_He puts her by, and steps before_ ORAZIA; _and she runs before_ MONTEZUMA.

_Zemp_. And he, that does this stranger's fate design, Must, to his heart, a passage force through mine.

_Trax_. Can fair Orazia yet no pity have? 'Tis just she should her own preserver save.

_Zemp_. Can Montezuma so ungrateful prove To her, that gave him life, and offers love?

_Oraz_. Can Montezuma live, and live to be Just to another, and unjust to me? You need not be ungrateful; can she give A life to you, if you refuse to live?-- Forgive my passion; I had rather see You dead, than kind to any thing but me.

_Mont_. O, my Orazia! To what new joys and knowledge am I brought! Are death's hard lessons by a woman taught? How to despise my fate I always knew; But ne'er durst think, at once, of death and you: Yet since you teach this generous jealousy, I dare not wish your life, if I must die. How much your love my courage does exceed! Courage alone would shrink to see you bleed!

_Zemp_. Ungrateful stranger! thou shalt please thy eyes, And gaze upon Orazia while she dies!-- I'll keep my vow!--It is some joy to see, That my revenge will prove my piety.

_Trax_. Then both shall die!--We have too long withstood, By private passions urged, the public good.

_Zemp_. Sure he dissembles; and, perhaps, may prove My ruin, with his new ambitious love: Were but this stranger kind, I'd cross his art, And give my empire, where I gave my heart. [_Aside_. Yet, thou ungrateful man, Let thy approaching ruin make thee wise.

_Mont_. Thee, and thy love, and mischief, I despise!

_Zemp_. What shall I do? Some way must yet be tried;-- What reason can she use whom passions guide!

[_Aside. Trax_. Some black designs are hatching now:--False eyes Are quick to see another's treacheries.

[_Aside. Zemp_. Rash stranger, thus to pull down thy own fate!

_Mont_. You, and that life you offer me, I hate.

_Enter Jailor_.

_Zemp_. Here, jailor, take--What title must he have? Slave, slave!--Am I then captive to a slave?-- Why art thou thus unwilling to be free?

_Mont_. Death will release me from these chains, and thee.

_Zemp_. Here, jailor, take this monster from my sight, And keep him where it may be always night. Let none come near him; if thou dost, expect To pay thy life, the price of the neglect.

_Mont_. I scorn thy pity, and thy cruelty; And should despise a blessing sent from thee.

_Zemp_. O, horror to my soul! take him away!-- My rage, like dammed-up streams, swelled by some stay, Shall, from this opposition, get new force, And leave the bound of its old easy course.-- Come, my Traxalla, let us both forgive, And in these wretches' fates begin to live. The altars shall be crowned with funeral boughs, Peace-offerings paid,--but with unquiet vows. [_Exeunt_ ZEMP. _and_ TRAX.

_Oraz_. How are things ordered, that the wicked should Appear more kind and gentle than the good? Her passion seems to make her kinder prove, And I seem cruel through excess of love: She loves, and would prevent his death; but I, That love him better, fear he should not die. My jealousy, immortal as my love, Would rob my grave below, and me above, Of rest.--Ye gods, if I repine, forgive! You neither let me die in peace, nor live.

_Enter_ ACACIS, _Jailor, and Indian_.

_Jail_. They are just gone, sir.

_Aca_. 'Tis well: Be faithful to my just design, And all thy prince's fortune shall be thine. [_Exit_ ACACIS.

_Ind_. This shall to the empress. [_Exit Indian_.

_Oraz_. What can this mean!-- 'Twas Prince Acacis, if I durst believe My sight; but sorrow may like joy deceive: Each object different from itself appears, That comes not to the eyes, but through their tears.

_Enter_ ACACIS, _bringing in_ MONTEZUMA. Ha!--

_Aca_. Here, sir, wear this again;--[_Gives a sword_. Now follow me.

_Mont_. So, very good;-- I dare not think, for I may guess amiss; None can deceive me while I trust in this. [_Exeunt_.