University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A Camp.
Enter Cortez alone in a Night-gown.
Cort.
All things are hush'd, as Natures self lay dead,
The Mountains seem to nod their drowsie head;
The little Birds in dreams their Songs repeat,
And sleeping Flowers, beneath the night-dew sweat;
Ev'n Lust and Envy sleep, yet Love denies
Rest to my Soul, and slumber to my Eyes.
Three days I promis'd to attend my Doom,
And two long days and nights are yet to come.
'Tis sure the noyse of some Tumultuous Fight,
Noyse within.
They break the truce, and sally out by Night.

Enter Orbellan flying in the dark his Sword drawn.
Orb.
Betray'd! pursu'd! Oh whither shall I flye?
See, see, the just reward of Treachery;
I'm sure among the Tents, but know not where,
Even night wants darkness to secure my fear.

Comes near Cortez who hears him.
Cort.
Stand, who goes there?

Orb.
—Alas, what shall I say!
Aside.
A poor Taxallan that mistook his way,
To him.
And wanders in the terrours of the night.

Cort.
Souldier thou seem'st afraid, whence comes thy flight?

Orb.
The insolence of Spaniards caus'd my fear,
Who in the dark pursu'd me entring here.

Cort.
Their Crimes shall meet immediate punishment,
But stay thou safe within the Generals Tent.

Orb.
Still worse and worse.

Cort.
—Fear not but follow me,
Upon my Life I'le let thee safe and free.

Cortez Leads him in, and returns.
To him Vasquez, Pizarro and Spaniards with Torohes.
Vasq.
O Sir, thank Heaven, and your brave Indian Friend
That you are safe, Orbellan did intend
This night to kill you sleeping in your Tent,
But Guyomar, his trusty Slave has sent,
Who following close his silent steps by night
Till in our Camp they both approach'd the light,
Cryed seize the Traytor, seize the Murtherer,
The cruel Villain fled I know not where,
But far he is not, for he this way bent.

Piz.
Th'inraged Souldiers seek, from Tent to Tent,
With lighted Torches, and in Love to you,
With bloody Vows his hated life pursue.

Vasq.
This Messenger does since he came relate,
That the old King, after a long debate;
By his imperious Mistress blindly led,
Has given Cydaria to Orbellan's Bed.

Cort.
Vasquez, the trusty Slave with you retain,
Retire a while, I'le call you back again.

Exeunt Vasquez, Pizarro.
Cortez at his Tent Door.
Cort.
Indian come forth, your Enemies are gone,
And I who sav'd you from them, here alone;
You hide your Face, as you were still afraid,
Dare you not look on him that gave you aid?

Enter Orbellan holding his Face aside.
Orb.
Moon slip behind some Cloud, some Tempest rise
And blow out all the Stars that light the Skies,
To shrowd my shame.

Cort.
—In vain you turn aside,
And hide your Face, your Name you cannot hide;
I know my Rival and his black design.

Orb.
Forgive it as my passions fault, not mine.

Cort.
In your excuse your Love does little say,
You might how e're have took a fairer way.

Orb.
'Tis true my passion small defence can make,
Yet you must spare me for your Honours sake;
That was engag'd to set me safe and free.

Cort.
'Twas to a Stranger, not an Enemy:
Nor is it prudence to prolong thy breath,
When all my hopes depend upon thy death—
—Yet none shall tax me with base perjury,
Something I'le do, both for my self and thee;
With vow'd revenge my Souldiers search each Tent,
If thou art seen none can thy death prevent;
Follow my steps with silence and with haste.

They go out, the Scene changes to the Indian Countrey, they return.
Cort.
Now you are safe, you have my out-guards past.

Orb.
Then here I take my leave.

Cort.
—Orbellan, no,
When you return you to Cydaria go,
I'le send a Message.

Orb.
—Let it be exprest,
I am in haste.

Cort.
—I'le write it in your Breast.—

Draws.
Orb.
What means my Rival?

Cort.
—Either Fight or Dye,
I'le not strain Honour to a point too high;
I sav'd your Life, now keep it if you can,
Cydaria shall be for the bravest Man;
On equal terms you shall your Fortune try,
Take this and lay your flint-edg'd weapon by;
I'le arm you for my Glory, and pursue
Gives him a Sword.
No Palm, but what's to manly Vertue due.
Fame with my Conquest, shall my Courage tell,
This you shall gain by placing Love so well.

Orb.
Fighting with you ungrateful I appear.

Cort.
Under that shadow thou wouldst hide thy fear:
Thou wouldst possess thy Love at thy return,
And in her Arms my easie Vertue scorn.

Orb.
Since we must Fight, no longer let's delay,
The Moon shines clear, and makes a paler day.

They Fight, Orbellan is wounded in the Hand, his Sword falls out of it.
Cort.
To Courage, even of Foes, there's pity due,
It was not I, but Fortune vanquish'd you;
Thank me with that, and so dispute the prize,
Throws his Sword again.
As if you Fought before Cydarias eyes.

Orb.
I would not poorly such a gift requite,
You gave me not this Sword to yield, but Fight;
But see where yours has forc'd its bloody way,
My wounded Hand my Heart does ill obey.

He strives to hold it, but cannot.
Cort.
Unlucky Honour that controul'st my will!
Why have I vanquish'd, since I must not Kill?
Fate sees thy Life lodg'd in a brittle Glass,
And looks it through, but to it cannot pass.

Orb.
All I can do is frankly to confess,
I wish I could, but cannot love her less;
To swear I would resign her were but vain,
Love would recal that perjur'd breath again;
And in my wretched case 'twill be more just
Not to have promis'd, then deceive your trust.
Know, if I Live once more to see the Town,
In bright Cydaria's Arms my Love i'le crown.

Cort.
In spight of that I give thee Liberty,
And with thy person leave thy Honour free;
But to thy wishes move a speedy pace,
Or Death will soon o'retake thee in the Chace.
To Arms, to Arms, Fate shows my Love the way,
I'le force the City on thy Nuptial day.

Exeunt severally