University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Fort of Cuzco.
Pizarro, Alvarados, Benalcazar, Zamorin, Zama. Soldiers arrayed.
Piz.
Comrades in arms!
Who here have watch'd, while through each labouring change
The cold moon slowly toil'd, and at the base
Of these vast rocks, seen the red balls ye launch'd
Fall from the unscath'd fortress! Ye, whom war,
By irksome trials in the lingering seige
Has taught to bear the iron yoke that galls
Proud valour, while your spirit glow'd within you,
Like the train'd war-steed, balancing his pace
While his eye flames with fire; lo, there your spoils!
[Pointing to the Fort.
Drag from unfathom'd caves exhaustless wealth,
And jems that pale the noon-beam: on yon height
Repose, and one by one tell o'er your scars:
And where the arrow pierc'd your batter'd mail,
Close it with plates of gold—

Ben.
Now, give the signal—
Thy troops demand the spoil.

Piz.
O'er yon proud temple
When victory waves my banner, Benalcazar,
Fix on the battlement this Inca's head,
So shall they perish, all who stood before us
Barring our way to conquest.

Zama.
Man of blood—
All— [going to the different chiefs.]
are ye all alike?
Thou aged warrior, [to Alvarados.]

Whose silver beard shows like my father's! spare him!

Zam.
Zama! submit in silence.

Piz.
[to his herald.]
Sound the trumpet.
Summon the fortress.

Alv.
First, Pizarro, hear me—
This corselet bears the dint of many a wound
That bought thee conquest: gold and gems I ask not.
I claim his freedom.

Zama.
Thou wert born of woman,
And drops of pity mingled in the breast
That gave thee milk.

Alv.
[to Zama.]
Hang not around me, thus;
Mine is no heart of flint: since she who bore me,
Wept o'er her farewell blessing, this old cheek
Has never felt a tear: the drops would scald
My eye unwonted to them—

Ben.
Hear, Pizarro,
Our followers murmur at this long delay—

Alv.
[to Ben.]
When Alvarados speaks, he will be heard—
In the last action, when his army fled,
I found this Inca with the fight o'erdone
Stretch'd on a heap, Indians and Spaniards slain.
I bad him yield: he answer'd not, but swiftly
As one just fresh in onset, wrench'd my lance
From its firm rest: and, as I grasp'd my sword,
With my own weapon, thro' this iron gauntlet,
Thus, pierc'd me: and may venom lurk in the wound,
If Alvarados see him basely slain
As he had ne'er known valour.

Zama.
[kisses his hand.]
Zama's lip
Shall head the wound—

Piz.
[to Alv.]
Pizarro is thy debtor.
When the proud fortress yields, release the hostage.
Summon the place—

Zam.
[advancing.]
Pizarro, stay—That fort
Hangs on my word: be warn'd, and now release me:
Or rage will prompt strange deeds, which shall outlast
The fame that waits on victory—Peru
Once more in arms demands her chief: release him,
Him whom you cannot fear—

Ben.
Free him, Pizarro—
Our scanty band scatters at will their myriads
Like dust before the blast—

Zam.
Boast not, proud warrior!
We are not cas'd in mail, we forge not swords
Edg'd to cut steel, we launch not hidden fires
That flash, and man is dead, nor mount on steeds
That crush the foe beneath their iron hoof—
We fight, as nature dictates: ye are train'd
To slaughter as an art: and in mid fight
Ye speak, and are obey'd, and turn the tide
Of battle with a word. But, with our shields
Twin'd rushes of the brook, reed shafts, and spears
Unbarb'd with iron, and for high-plum'd casque
A wreath of flow'rs pluck'd from our native soil,
Arm'd in our country's cause, we will once more
Front you without a fear—

Ben.
[to Piz.]
These valiant men
Have earn'd rewards beyond a monarch's ransom,
And claim the promis'd spoil. We come not hither
Thus to be mock'd by slaves.

Piz.
Draw your brave swords,
Wave your triumphant standards, peal the trumpet.
Yield to Pizarro's power!

Orc.
[on the battlement.]
Where is the chief
Who thrones and unthrones kings?

Piz.
[advancing.]
Behold Pizarro—

Orc.
[to the guards within the fort.]
Now cast the traitor forth, then, close the gates.

[Gulaxa is cast forth. He kneels to Pizarro.
Ben.
This is no harbinger of victory.

Alv.
[to Gul.]
Why dost thou clasp his knees? why prone on earth
Thus shrouded close from view, as if thou fear'd'st
That the abhorrent eye should turn from thee
As from a sight unblest?

Zam.
Is this the monarch
Whom great Pizarro crown'd?

Piz.
Ye mountains! crush me!
Gape earth that I have drench'd with blood, and hide me
In central night!

Ben.
[to Pizarro.]
Where are the promis'd spoils?

Piz.
[confusedly to his army.]
This is not as it seems. It moves your wonder.
Be not alarm'd, my friends: art oft beneath
The semblance of repulse—Oh heav'n and earth!
By all my former fame, and the proud hope
Of greater glory, now for ever gone,
Thou [to Gulaxa.]
shalt not live.

[Going to stab him.
Gul.
Stay thy impetuous hand:
I was myself betray'd. Send back your troops.
Yet, yet thou shalt succeed.

Piz.
Comrades! retire
A little while: here soon to meet again.
I pray you to the camp.

[All go but Pizarro, Juan, and Gulaxa.
Gul.
Grant me but life,
Villoma shall obey me.

Piz.
Mark me, traitor,
Oh—if false hope deceive me, thou shalt die
In lingering agonies. There, fix my banners,
Now, ere Almagro's swift advancing host
Pluck conquest from my grasp.

Gul.
'Tis in thy pow'r.

Piz.
No trifle turns Pizarro from his course.

Gul.
You need but feign the act.

Piz.
Be brief—reveal it—

Gul.
You mark'd that woman whom they lead away.

Piz.
Most beautiful. In form, and face, and air,
Peerless, and rarely grac'd.

Gul.
You know her rank.

Piz.
Zamorin's wife.

Gul.
Know you nought else?

Zam.
No more.

Gul.
She is a daughter of the sun: a Coya.

Piz.
[impatiently.]
Well, well.

Gul.
You heed me not. She is a Coya.
Pure in her veins, from our first monarch, flows
Her blood by mortal mixture unprofan'd.
Her father, in yon rock-built temple, serves
The sun, his sire and god,—her life is sacred—
You understand me: let me add no more.

Piz.
Her life is sacred. I have heard such tales;
But these vain dreams and visions of weak fancies,
Past with the hearing.

Gul.
Oh you misconceive it:
So sacred are their lives, that he who wounds them
Unknowingly, nay, tho' devoid of sense,
Idiot or lunatic, no longer dwells
With man, but from the social tie cut off,
Strays lone on earth, amid the beasts of the wild.
Who slays a Coya, is entomb'd alive,
His race from earth swept off, and e'en the ground
That fed him, hid with stones, which he who passes,
Casts with a curse upon it.

Piz.
Then—you mean
That I should slay this daughter of the sun,
If her stern sire refuse to yield the fort.

Gul.
You need but threaten it. But ne'er Villoma
Will yield the fort, unsanction'd by Zamorin.
A solemn vow restricts him. Free the hostage:
Let him once more to Cuzco's walls return;
And when Villoma and Zamorin view
The Coya in thy pow'r—

Piz.
[interrupting him.]
It cannot fail—
Juan—delay not—to Zamorin haste;
Release the hostage: this the sole condition,
That young Almagro in yon walls remain
A captive: here, with us, the Coya rests,
Pledge of Zamorin's words. [Juan goes.]
Guards! seize this traitor, [Gulaxa.]

And underneath yon rock that view'd our shame,
In torturing pangs inflict his doom of death.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to the Camp.
Zamorin and Zama.
Zam.
Oh hapless country! by thy native race
Betray'd to merciless men!

Zama.
Yet some remain
Unshaken: from the rest, when thou went'st forth,
Hope fled: from thee the general spirit flow'd
As light from heav'n. Thy influence reign'd in all;
Thou wert their voice in counsel, strength in war,
In woe, sole prop: thou went'st, and dark despair
Fell on the brave: while strange extravagant tales
That made the Spaniards, gods, found sure belief
In the base fear that forg'd them.

Zam.
Lost Peru!
Oh could they hear my voice! e'en now, ere night,
Spaniards 'gainst Spaniard, arm'd by demons, clash
In unforgiving contest. Knew they this,
Hope would revive, and with reviving hope,
Th'unconquerable will, and pow'r to quell
Th'invader. Oh! how gladly would I pour
My willing blood upon my native earth,
If my blest voice, in death, might warn Peru
Of fate to come!

Juan enters.
Juan.
Zamorin, thou art free:
Go to yon fort, and as becomes the brave,
Defend thy country.

Zam.
Gracious heav'n! I thank thee!
Yet much I fear thou mock'st me.

Juan.
Thou art free.
Yet—hear the terms.

Zam.
I knew that thou did'st mock me.
You need not name them.

Juan.
Had thy will consented
To young Almagro's death, the western world
Had own'd thy rule.

Zama.
He came, a willing victim
Pledg'd for thy life. [Zamorin.]
By his kind aid I stand
Here at thy side.

Zam.
You may depart.

Juan.
Yet—hear me:
Nor price of blood, nor aught unjust I claim:
This only, to detain him in yon fort
A prisoner: Zama, hostage for thy word
Here, in our guard, remains. [after a long pause.]
You answer not.

Zama.
Yes. He consents. Oh, linger not, Zamorin.
Away, [aside to Zamorin.]
and warn Peru of fate to come.
Farewell.

Zam.
Oh man! thou hadst not hope to move me.

Juan.
I understand thee not.

Zam.
Then briefly this,
We love our wives, and in that name comprise
All that earth holds most sacred. Thou art answer'd.

Zama.
Good Spaniard! I may move him: pray retire.
[Juan goes.
[After a long silence.]
You will consent.

Zam.
Never.

Zama.
You love me not.

Zam.
Far beyond life.

Zama.
More than thy country's freedom,
Than virtue, self-esteem, vows fix'd in heav'n,
That vow, which when Huascar's spirit fled,
Left on his corse a smile? thee I have lov'd
With that pure ardour, which to rightly name it,
Seems likest adoration: for in thee,
Virtue in human shape, gave me on earth
The foretaste of hereafter. I have liv'd
In that persuasion blest: so let me die.
Oh say, you will consent.

Zam.
Art thou aware
Of their intent?

Zama.
I think I shall not live.

Zam.
'Tis plain as if Pizarro's voice proclaim'd it:
Thee, they will drag thee underneath the fort,
And in a father's sight—

Zama.
[interrupting him.]
Oh name it not.

Zam.
The fiend will pierce thy bosom, if Villoma
Refuse to yield the fort. Zama, a father
Can ne'er endure that sight.

Zama.
Thou wilt be with him:
Control him—and then—sooth him, that he feel not
That he has lost a child.

Zam.
How shall I stand
Unshaken, when a father's heart drops blood?

Zama.
Thou art the column that supports Peru.

Zam.
It is thy voice, but thou hast chang'd thy nature.
Thy eye, that gazes on me, sheds no tear,
While mine—

Zama.
Spare, pity me, consent, farewell.

Zam.
Is it a trivial thing to part with life,
That we no more shall meet as once in bliss?

Zama.
Husband! clasp, clasp me in thy arms, then ask
That question, and my heart shall answer thee.
Thus, [embracing him.]
we will die together. Yet—I fear
Peru's deep curse will load our parting breath.

Zam.
Thou more than woman.

Zama.
No, a weak, frail woman,
Who has not chang'd her nature: one, from love
Who borrows strength beyond her pow'r, to utter
What breaks her heart. Say, that we live, Zamorin,
And yield the fort; the earth will groan beneath us;
The sun withdraw his light that we have hymn'd,
Both when it rose and set; for still it blest
Our love, whose bond was virtue. We may shun
A scornful world: how shall we shun ourselves,
The worse despisers? Say, we die together;
My father to redeem our corse from insult
Would yield the fort, but—as he tomb'd our bones,
Shame would suspend his blessing. Fix our doom:
My soul, high-strain'd beyond its nature, leans
On thee for aid: oh, by thy virtue, husband,
Give strength to mine. Oh let me die in peace,
And make my memory blest.

[Rushes out, but returns.
Zam.
Farewell—be blest—
Yet—yet. I have a fear.
How shall I speak it? these are bad, bad men.
When he, who should protect, is far away,
When most his aid is wanted—

Zama.
Spous'd in heav'n!
Let not a fear for me disturb thee more!
I can protect myself—depart in peace!

Zam.
What thy intent?

Zama.
Ere the good Spaniard went,
Who brought me hither, I entreated him
One favour for Almagro's sake: he gave it:
Uncertain as I was what doom might wait me,
I begg'd this steel. I will not rashly use it.
But when all else shall fail, 'twill be no crime
To rescue a pure daughter of the sun,
Thy wife, from touch unblest.

Zam.
[embraces her.]
We meet—in heav'n.