SCENE IV.

_Enter_ ODMAR _and_ GUTOMAR, _meeting each other in the battle_.

_Odm_. Where hast thou been, since first the fight began, Thou less than woman in the shape of man?

_Guy_. Where I have done what may thy envy move, Things worthy of my birth, and of my love.

_Odm_. Two bold Taxallans with one dart I slew, And left it sticking ere my sword I drew.

_Guy_. I sought not honour on so base a train, Such cowards by our women may be slain; I felled along a man of bearded face, His limbs all covered with a shining case: So wondrous hard, and so secure of wound, It made my sword, though edged with flint, re-bound.

_Odm_. I killed a double man; the one half lay Upon the ground, the other ran away.

[_Guns go off within.

Enter_ Montezuma, _out of breath, with him_ Alibech, _and an Indian_.

_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_.