University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Country near Mexico.
Enter Cortez, Vasquez, Pizarro, with Spaniards, and Indians of their Party.
Cort.
On what new happy climate are we thrown!
It looks as if old nature, purged by fire,
Had past the general doom, and here arose
A new-created world.

Vasq.
By science unrefined, this world is laid
In nature's simple lap. Mechanic arts
Hold no republic here; but all is wild
And savage, as the soil.

Cort.
Savage and wild,
Are terms we give to fashions not our own.
Better, perhaps, that man had yet been left,
To the rude dictates of his native virtue;
Than to be wrought and polished into vice,
By arts too much refined.

Piz.
The soil, though savage, yields spontaneous plenty,
Beyond what toil and culture can produce
In our o'erlabour'd world. This country is
The fabled Danae, sure, in whose fair lap
The glittering Jove descended: mountain floods
Here pour a golden torrent; here again,
The lucid stream, with rich vicissitude,
Flows o'er a bed of silver.

Vasq.
Ay, this is worth
A soldier's fighting for—the great reward,
The prize beyond compare, which Heaven reserves
For unexampled valour; since we dare,
With scarce one squadron, and a few brave foot,
To war upon a new found world.

Cort.
Pizarro,
Valour is not sustain'd by vanity.
Far, far unequal were our power to that
Of mighty Montezuma, did not faction
Divide these savages against themselves:
The spacious empire of the late Traxalla,
Groaning beneath the yoke of Mexico,
Crouds our thin ranks, and sues to us for freedom.
We will not yet proceed, by close deceit,
Or lawless rapine; we shall first propose
The sword, or branch of peace, to their election.
Say, guide, how far to Mexico?

1st Ind.
A league
Brings you within the prospect of the city,
That rises from the lake, as newly bathed,
And shines to either shore.

2d Ind.
This morning's sun
Rose on the day that gave their monarch birth;
And solemn rites, such as may suit his pride
And their servility, are now preparing.

Cort.
Forward—March, friends!—I gladly would be present
At this imperial festival—But, mark me;
Let not an Indian raise his arm in anger,
Not, for his life, till justice, and the word,
Shall give his weapon weight. Proceed, brave friends!
Honour's the road that best leads on to conquest.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

An Indian Temple.
High Priest, and other Priests—To them a Messenger.
Mess.
Dispatch, ye holy priests—the King approaches.

Priest.
We for his royal presence only wait,
To end our solemn rites. Five hundred captives
Beheld the morning sun, whose eyes no more
Shall open to the light—Your incense now
On this fair altar, sacred to the Power
Of Love, heap largely; till the clouds ascend
In fragrance to his godhead.

SCENE III.

Enter Montezuma, Odmar, Cyderia, Almeria, Alibech, Orbellan, and Train.
They place themselves.
H. Priest.
All hail to Montezuma, to our King,
Son of the Sun, and father of his people!
May he behold his subjects celebrate
This happy natal day, from year to year,
Till time shall be no more—

Other Priests.
Hail! Hail! Hail!

H. Priest.
Sound instruments! and let the vocal choir
Perform the hymn to Beauty.


HYMN.

[Montezuma rises, goes to Almeria, bows, and offers the Garland, which she rejects.
Mont.
Since my Orazia's death, I have not seen
A beauty so deserving of a crown,
As fair Almeria.

Alm.
Me, my lord, to me—
The daughter of those dear and royal parents,
Who fell the victims of your dire ambition;
Whose crown you have usurp'd, whose wretched subjects
Still bend beneath the weight of your oppression!
What may your mightiness demand, in lieu
Of such beneficence?

Mont.
Your pardon, first;
And next, your pity.

Alm.
Such as you conferr'd
On great Taxalla, my unhappy father,
Receive the like from me.

Mont.
Think, fair Almeria,
If I deprived thy father of a crown,
I lay a brighter at his daughter's feet;
And yeild myself and my dominions up,
The conquest of her charms.

Alm.
Yes, Montezuma,
It is a conquest I do glory in,
That I, with tyranny and pride, like thine,
May exercise my power.

Mont.
The gods, themselves,
Require but our submission for our faults,
And then delight to pardon. Heaven is thus
Best worship'd and appeased.

[Kneels.
Orbel.
Behold, Almeria,
[Kneels.
Your brother also bends, and joins the suit
Of supplicating majesty!

Alib.
Your sister,
[Kneels.
Low at your feet, with like prostration, bows,
And sues for favour to our royal master.

Orbel.
Think, with what joy, our late disastrous parents,
Will look from Heaven to see their crown restored,
And placed, with double lustre, on the head
Of their Almeria.

Alm.
Well—I do accept
Your garland; not as any instance, meant,
Of grace or favour in return; but merely,
As the submissive mark of homage, due
To the supremacy and rights of Beauty.

[Montezuma places the Garland on her Head.

SCENE IV.

Guyomar enters.
Odm.
My brother Guyomar!—his steps are hasty;
And his amazed countenance foretells
Uncommon tidings.

Mont.
What, my Guyomar,
So soon return'd?—I sent thee to the frontiers.

Guy.
I went, dread sir, by your command, to view
The utmost limits of our land; that shore,
Beyond whose beaten verge no world is found,
Save a wild waste of waters and of air,
Illimitable. There I stood, awhile,
And ponder'd on the vast expanse, stretch'd out,
Perhaps, to infinite: when, as I look'd,
As far as my capacious ken could take
The wide horizon in, even to the line
Where the low bending vault of Heaven appear'd
To rest on ocean—somewhat thence arose
Like clouds, at first unshapely; large, and larger,
As near, and nearer they approach'd, they grew
In bulk and figures, of amazing form,
And terrible distinction!

Mont.
Say, my son,
To what known figures may you best compare
Their wonderful appearance?

Guy.
First, they seem'd
A moving forest; but, instead of leaves
And spreading branches, they assumed such wings,
As left it doubtful if they swam in air,
Or skim'd the surface of the seas—Anon,
As near and nearer they approach'd, they grew
Of wondrous bulk beneath; and now they seem'd
A floating city, with aspiring tops
Of sheeted towers, and pinnacles that gave
Their streamers to the wind.

Mont.
Ye mighty gods!
What may these monsters bode?—Did they appear
As things inanimate?

Guy.
If voice and motion
Give evidence of life, they lived too surely.
To right and left I saw them turn, with ease,
Their vast enormity: I heard their word;
They breathed destructive fires, and spoke in thunders.
They are, surely, of the race of those above,
Who whirl the rapid tempest from on high,
And launch the dreaded lightnings. Mortal courage
No longer could sustain the horrid vision—
I do confess, I fled—for the first time,
My feet avowed my fears.

H, Priest.
A prophecy of ancient date imports
The failure of our state, when bearded men
Shall land in floating palaces.

Mont.
Go straight—
Solicit, and enquire of all our gods,
What these portents foreshew, that we may learn
To stand the fate that cannot be avoided.—
[Exeunt Priests.
In the mean season, let our rites proceed.
Odmar, our kingdom's heir, our eldest born,
Let thine electing wreath, in public here,
Avow the secret mistress of thine heart.
Within this starry round of dazzling beauties,
All daughters of the Sun, all fair and bright
As the refulgent sire from whom they sprung,
Thou canst not chuse amiss.

Odm.
Alas, my father,
I have no choice to make—long since determin'd
By fond and irresistible attractions,
My movements center here—

[Places his Wreath on the Head of Alibech.
Mont.
Well placed, my son!—
Next to the beauties of divine Almeria,
The world could yield no choice like Alibech,
The sister of Perfection.

Alib.
Pray you, pardon.
My humble state permits me not to scorn
The grace you mean me—I accept your garland,
But must reserve my heart.

Mont.
Now, Guyomar,
Our kingdom's second hope!—to what fair shrine
Does thy devotion bend?

Guy.
I have no garland,
No fading sweets, no transitory pledge
Of passion to confer. My wreath is form'd
By links of plighted love, and truth that breathes
A never dying fragrance!—Pardon, brother!
I speak my approbation of your choice,
By humbly bending here.—

[Bends on one knee to Alibech.
Odm.
How, Guyomar!—
Does thy presumption overleap the bounds,
That guard my rights of eldership?

Guy.
No, Odmar—
The kingdom, by priority of birth,
Is thine, unenvied: eldership, my brother,
Though a good plea in empire, never yet
Was held a plea in love.

Mont.
'Tis true, my children.
Since you, unhappily, have fix'd your hearts
On the same object, let her choice decide
Your rights of rivalship.

Alib.
My heart, my lord,
Is that of a cold virgin; though long woo'd,
Not lightly won. Who serves his country best;
Who e'er in council, or the field of danger,
Shall vest his name with a peculiar lustre;
To him I yield my person and my heart—
Not as a gift, but the reward of virtue.

Mont.
Greatly determin'd. Honourable maiden,
Happy, as glorious, be thy fair election!—
Orbellan, has thy garland been composed
To wither in thine hand?

Orbel.
Not so, my liege,
Might I assume the boldness to approach,
Where the aspiring ardour of my love
Would breath its incense!

Mont.
Love, Orbellan, is
An arbitrary lord; nor will submit
His rule to our direction. 'Tis enough,
However high and dignified the object,
To sue with reverence, and to hope with honour.

Orbel.
Suppose the daughter of my sovereign?—

Mont.
How!—
O, I do see—the gods, in spight of victory,
In spight of death, are bent to vindicate
The empire of Traxalla; while his progeny,
With galling retribution, cast their chains
O'er me and mine!

Alm.
Proud monarch!—Yet reflect,
Who scorns the suit or person of my brother,
Makes light of the displeasure of Almeria!

Mont.
I strive in vain—the lion's struggling heart
Is wound about with toils!—Cyderia, take
Thy lover's wreath; and, if thou dost esteem
Thy father's welfare, treat him not unkindly.

Cyder.
Obedient to your pleasure, royal sir,
Though much repugnant to my own, I take
A pledge of love I never can return—
Nature and deep disgust would therein prove,
Too strong for your commands.

Officer enters hastily.
Offic.
Break up your rites!—
A host of foes, who lurk'd within the wood,
Burst from their ambush, and enclose the temple.

Mont.
Make to the city, by the postern gate.
Freedom, and conquest, or a glorious death,
Best fits a soldier and a king!

[Exeunt.
Alarm without. They all re-enter as driven back by the enemy.
Mont.
Confusion!—on all sides beset!—Here, stand,
And let us make this passage good—If not
For victory, why, let us fight for vengeance!
So shall our valour raise one trophy more,
Even in the gate of death!

Cortez without.
Cort.
Slaves, villains, cowards!—Stay, restrain your outrage.

SCENE V.

Enter Cortez, Vasquez, Pizarro, Spaniards, and Traxallans.
Cort.
Did I not charge ye not to fight, on pain
Of capital displeasure?

Traxal.
Dread commander!
You know not whom you would protect—These are
Your first, your greatest foes; the very life
Of Mexico, the vital heart and head
Of twenty millions—mighty Montezuma,
Caught in our toils, with all his royal race!
Permit us but to strike, and the wide world,
Like fruit o'er-ripen'd, falls into your hand,
Without the pain of plucking.

Cort.
Stay, I charge ye!—
They shall not die—my clemency defends them.
Vasquez, draw up our Spaniards, and give fire
On all who dare to disobey.

Traxal.
O, mercy!—
[Traxallans kneel.
Mercy, dread sovereign—at your feet we fall
For mercy!—Silence, then, your thundering gods!—
If they but speak, we die!—

Cort.
Upon the instant,
Withdraw—and hence be taught a due submission.

[Traxallans retire.
Mont.
The fierce Traxallans lay their weapons down,
And fearfully retire.—Some god presides,
And shields us from destruction.—
Patron of Mexico, great power of battles!
[To Cortez.
If you are he, whose nostrils take delight
In carnage, and the scent of human blood
Hot fuming from the heart, ten daily victims
Shall gasp within your shrine.—But, if you are,
As rather it should seem, that deity,
Whose sweetest incense is an act of goodness;
The widow and the orphan, through our land,
Shall tune their hearts to gladness; and our prisoners
Spring from a thousand dungeons, to exult
And gambol in your presence!

Cort.
Generous prince,
Imperial Montezuma!—I am a man,
To you, and many others, much inferior;
Unless exalted by a soldier's worth,
That to the sword of honour ties humanity.
To you I come, ambassador of peace
And friendship, from the world's most potent king,
The mighty Charles of Spain.

Mont.
We know him not.—
Yet, if we know ourself, we also know
The world contains not one so great—not him,
Our brother of Peru, the second throne
That rises o'er the earth!—The rest are, all,
Of order subaltern, or petty lords,
And tributary vassals; as the Heavens
Contain but two great lights, with lesser stars
That form their regal train.

Cort.
Mistaken monarch!
The world contains a multitude of empires;
Within whose spacious tracts, thy Mexico
Would shew but as a province. Full four moons
Have watch'd our nightly courses, since we launch'd
And left the nearest shore: all else, between,
Is ocean; o'er whose bosom we have ply'd
Both sail and oar, with unremitted speed,
Through light and darkness.

Mont.
Wondrous are the things
Thou tellest, as if Heaven had lately form'd
A new invented world!—In all events,
If he, whose potent delegate thou art,
Be great, and good, and gracious, as thyself;
There's nothing more to fear. Say, first of mortals,
What would thy monarch with a king and stranger?

Cort.
Vasquez, do thou unfold our high commission.

[Addresses the Ladies.
Vasq.
Charles, by the gift of all-disposing Heaven,
Chief monarch of the world, and king of kings,
First wills that you resign your crown and scepter,
To be return'd, and held, from him and his,
By you and yours, in regal deputation,
Even to the end of time.

Mont.
'Tis in my hand—
What if I hold it?

Vasq.
War and violence
Shall wrest it from you.

Mont.
By what right?

Vasq.
The grant
Of our great Pontiff; who, in Heaven and earth,
Gives kingdoms, and resumes them.

Mont.
If he grants
In Heaven, as now on earth, what is not his,
We pity his expectants—Would your king
Aught further?

Vasq.
Yes—your golden ore.

Mont.
'Tis his.
Though we refuse our kingdom to his pride,
We yet bestow upon his poverty
The treasures we despise!—Is there aught else,
In which our new-found master would command us?

Vasq.
He, lastly, wills you to forsake your idols,
Your worship of the works of human hands,
And spirits reprobate; and to adore,
With him, One Power Supreme.

Mont.
If he can shew us
A god of just pre-eminence, whose power
Wisdom directs, and goodness ministers,
Our choice shall follow reason—our own reason,
Not that of others.

Vasq.
Pardon, royal sir!
Herein you must be govern'd. We have brought you
Instructors, deeply learn'd; all holy men,
Commission'd, by infallibility,
To root out error, and to plant the truth
Of our unerring doctrine.

Mont.
Men, you say;
And yet infallible?—O, I do see
The threefold motives of your journey now!
You, first, would plunder us of our possessions;
You, next, would bend our bodies to your burdens;
And, lastly, stretch the scope of your dominion
Over our free-born minds—It is too much!
You cannot hold us worthy of your friendship,
Should we accept it upon terms so base,
So utterly degrading!

Cort.
What's the contest?—
Vasquez, I fear thou did'st exaggerate.
What says the imperial power of Mexico?
What says our royal friend?

Mont.
First, as a man,
By your protecting virtue snatch'd so late
From imminent destruction, much is due,
And more would I return.—But, as a king,
Bound to defend an independent crown,
And a free people, I reject all terms
That favour of submission!

Cort.
Know, great sir,
A new and powerful motive binds me, now,
To court your friendship; and, howe'er compell'd,
By the stern duties of my high commission,
To stand in arms against your Mexicans,
I cannot be the foe of Montezuma.

Mont.
Hear me, ye guardian gods of Mexico!
If that, in Heaven or earth, a power is found
To your's and mine superior—If some fate,
Unknown, shall yet intrude upon our world,
And cast us from dominion—may that fate,
With my friend's hand my ravish'd sceptre grace,
And rule these realms in justice!

[Exeunt all severally, except Cortez and Cyderia, who seems going, yet lingers behind.
Cyd.
My duty bids me go—and yet some power,
More strong than duty, holds me!

Cort.
Fairest creature!
Will you vouchsafe your presence, for a moment,
That my fond eyes may gaze upon your beauties,
Like to bewilder'd travellers on snow,
Till they grow blinded with excess of brightness.

Cyd.
Fair stranger!—why I would stay here, I know not.
Yet, somewhat keeps me—some unknown emotion
Stirs all my soul, and makes me sigh, and sigh,
Altho' I feel no sorrow!—Tell me, sir,
What holds you, also, from your late associates?

Cort.
You do, bright excellence!—I am your captive;
And you have bound me with a chain more strong
Than links of triple steel. All other slaves
May chance to break their fetters—I, alone,
Can ne'er be free; for I am in love with bondage.

Cyd.
I would—I would, indeed, you were my prisoner!
For I would bind you with a gentle thread;
Nor ever put you into harder service,
Than thus to look, and talk, and walk before me—
And yet I fear me, it is you have caused
This new disturbance in my peaceful bosom,
That thrills my blood, and heaves within my hearts,
And pains me, sadly, when I think of parting!

Cort.
O, native honour, heavenly purity!
That needs no veil, but shames the courtly mask
Of practised guile, and studied affectation!

To them Orbellan.
Orb.
Princess, your royal father sends for you,
And wonders much at your delay.

Cyd.
Alas,
So great a wonder for so short an absence!

Orb.
It is his strict commandment, that you come
Upon the instant—

Cyd.
Has he also sent
To bring the stranger?

Orb.
No—his high placed love
Rather demands correction.

Cort.
O, thou hast,
Within the sacred presence of thy princess,
A charter, wide as air, for insolence!
Make use of her protection—but beware,
When next we meet!—

Cyd.
Ah, I do feel, in parting,
That I must leave my former joys behind;
And carry nothing, in exchange, from hence,
Save new found wretchedness.

Cort.
Where e'er you go,
My sighs, my soul, and every faculty,
Attend upon your steps.

[Exeunt severally.