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.

[_They fall on him, and bear him down_, GUYOMAR _takes his sword_.

_Alib_. He's past recovery; my dear brother's slain, Fate's hand was in it, and my care is vain.

_Alm_. In weak complaints you vainly waste your breath: They are not tears that can revenge his death. Despatch the villain strait.

_Cort_. The villain's dead.

_Alm_. Give me a sword, and let me take his head.

_Mont_. Though, madam, for your brother's loss I grieve, Yet let me beg--

_Alm_. His murderer may live?

_Cyd_. 'Twas his misfortune, and the chance of war.

_Cort_. It was my purpose, and I killed him fair: How could you so unjust and cruel prove, To call that chance, which was the act of love?

_Cyd_. I called it any thing to save your life: Would he were living still, and I his wife! That wish was once my greatest misery: But 'tis a greater to behold you die.

_Alm_. Either command his death upon the place, Or never more behold Almeria's face.

_Guy_. You by his valour once from death were freed: Can you forget so generous a deed?

[_To_ MONTEZUMA.

_Mont_. How gratitude and love divide my breast! Both ways alike my soul is robbed of rest. But--let him die--Can I his sentence give? Ungrateful, must he die, by whom I live? But can I then Almeria's tears deny? Should any live whom she commands to die?

_Guy_. Approach who dares: He yielded on my word; And, as my prisoner, I restore his sword. [_Gives his sword_. His life concerns the safety of the state, And I'll preserve it for a calm debate.

_Mont_. Dar'st thou rebel, false and degenerate boy? That being, which I gave, I thus destroy.

[_Offers to kill him_, ODMAR _steps between_.

_Odm_. My brother's blood I cannot see you spill, Since he prevents you but from doing ill. He is my rival, but his death would be For him too glorious, and too base for me.

_Guy_. Thou shalt not conquer in this noble strife: Alas, I meant not to defend my life: Strike, sir, you never pierced a breast more true; 'Tis the last wound I e'er can take for you. You see I live but to dispute your will; Kill me, and then you may my prisoner kill.

_Cort_. You shall not, generous youths, contend for me: It is enough that I your honour see: But that your duty may no blemish take, I will myself your father's captive make: [_Gives his sword to_ MONTEZUMA. When he dares strike, I am prepared to fall: The Spaniards will revenge their general.

_Cyd_. Ah, you too hastily your life resign, You more would love it, if you valued mine!

_Cort_. Despatch me quickly, I my death forgive; I shall grow tender else, and wish to live; Such an infectious face her sorrow wears, I can bear death, but not Cydaria's tears.

_Alm_. Make haste, make haste, they merit death all three: They for rebellion, and for murder he. See, see, my brother's ghost hangs hovering there O'er his warm blood, that steams into the air; Revenge, revenge, it cries.

_Mont_. And it shall have; But two days respite for his life I crave: If in that space you not more gentle prove, I'll give a fatal proof how well I love. 'Till when, you, Guyomar, your prisoner take; Bestow him in the castle on the lake: In that small time I shall the conquest gain Of these few sparks of virtue which remain; Then all, who shall my headlong passion see, Shall curse my crimes, and yet shall pity me.

[_Exeunt_.