The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 02

by John Dryden

ACT II.

SCENE I.—The Magician's Cave.

Enter MONTEZUMA, and High-Priest.

Mont. Not that I fear the utmost fate can do,
Come I the event of doubtful war to know;
For life and death are things indifferent;
Each to be chose as either brings content:
My motive from a nobler cause does spring,
Love rules my heart, and is your monarch's king;
I more desire to know Almeria's mind,
Than all that heaven has for my state designed.

High Pr. By powerful charms, which nothing can withstand, I'll force the Gods to tell what you demand.

CHARM.

Thou moon, that aidest us with thy magic might,
And ye small stars, the scattered seeds of light,
Dart your pale beams into this gloomy place,
That the sad powers of the infernal race
May read above what's hid from human eyes,
And in your walks see empires fall and rise.
And ye, immortal souls, who once were men,
And now, resolved to elements again,
Who wait for mortal frames in depths below,
And did before what we are doomed to do;
Once, twice, and thrice, I wave my sacred wand,
Ascend, ascend, ascend at my command.

[An earthy spirit rises.

Spir. In vain, O mortal men, your prayers implore
The aid of powers below, which want it more:
A God more strong, who all the Gods commands,
Drives us to exile from our native lands;
The air swarms thick with wandering deities,
Which drowsily, like humming beetles, rise
From our loved earth, where peacefully we slept,
And, far from heaven, a long possession kept.
The frighted satyrs, that in woods delight,
Now into plains with pricked-up ears take flight;
And scudding thence, while they their horn-feet ply,
About their sires the little silvans cry.
A nation loving gold must rule this place,
Our temples ruin, and our rites deface:
To them, O king, is thy lost sceptre given.
Now mourn thy fatal search, for since wise heaven
More ill than good to mortals does dispense,
It is not safe to have too quick a sense.

[Descends.

Mont. Mourn they, who think repining can remove
The firm decrees of those, who rule above;
The brave are safe within, who still dare die:
Whene'er I fall, I'll scorn my destiny.
Doom as they please my empire not to stand,
I'll grasp my sceptre with my dying hand.

High Pr. Those earthy spirits black and envious are;
I'll call up other Gods, of form more fair:
Who visions dress in pleasing colour still,
Set all the good to shew, and hide the ill.
Kalib, ascend, my fair-spoke servant rise,
And sooth my heart with pleasing prophesies.

KALIB ascends all in white, in shape of a woman, and sings.

Kal. I looked and saw within the book of fate,
Where, many days did lowr,
When lo one happy hour
Leapt up, and smiled to save thy sinking state;
A day shall come when in thy power
Thy cruel foes shall be;
Then shall thy land be free,
And thou in peace shalt reign.
But take, O take that opportunity,
Which, once refused, will never come again.

[Descends.

Mont. I shall deserve my fate, if I refuse
That happy hour which heaven allots to use:
But of my crown thou too much care dost take;
That which I value more, my love's at stake.

High Pr. Arise, ye subtle spirits, that can spy,
When love is entered in a female's eye;
You, that can read it in the midst of doubt,
And in the midst of frowns can find it out;
You, that can search those many cornered minds,
Where women's crooked fancy turns and winds;
You, that can love explore, and truth impart,
Where both lie deepest hid in woman's heart,
Arise—

[The ghosts of TRAXALLA and ACACIS arise; they stand still, and point at MONTEZUMA.

High Pr. I did not for these ghastly visions send;
Their sudden coming does some ill portend.
Begone,—begone,—they will not disappear!
My soul is seized with an unusual fear.

Mont. Point on, point on, and see whom you can fright.
Shame and confusion seize these shades of night!
Ye thin and empty forms, am I your sport?
[They smile.
If you were flesh—
You know you durst not use me in this sort.

[The ghost of the Indian Queen rises betwixt the ghosts, with a dagger in her breast.

Mont. Ha!
I feel my hair grow stiff, my eye-balls roll!
This is the only form could shake my soul.

Ghost. The hopes of thy successful love resign;
Know, Montezuma, thou art only mine;
For those, who here on earth their passion shew
By death for love, receive their right below.
Why dost thou then delay my longing arms?
Have cares, and age, and mortal life such charms?
The moon grows sickly at the sight of day,
And early cocks have summoned me away:
Yet I'll appoint a meeting place below,
For there fierce winds o'er dusky vallies blow,
Whose every puff bears empty shades away,
Which guidless in those dark dominions stray.
Just at the entrance of the fields below,
Thou shalt behold a tall black poplar grow;
Safe in its hollow trunk I will attend,
And seize thy spirit when thou dost descend.

[Descends.

Mont. I'll seize thee there, thou messenger of fate.—
Would my short life had yet a shorter date!
I'm weary of this flesh which holds us here,
And dastards manly souls with hope and fear;
These heats and colds still in our breast make war,
Agues and fevers all our passions are. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

CYDARIA and ALIBECH, betwixt the two armies.

Alib. Blessings will crown your name, if you prevent
That blood, which in this battle will be spent;
Nor need you fear so just a suit to move,
Which both becomes your duty and your love.

Cyd. But think you he will come? their camp is near, And he already knows I wait him here.

Alib. You are too young your power to understand, Lovers take wing upon the least command; Already he is here.

Enter CORTEZ and VASQUEZ to them.

Cort. Methinks, like two black storms on either hand,
Our Spanish army and your Indians stand;
This only space betwixt the clouds is clear,
Where you, like day, broke loose from both appear.

Cyd. Those closing skies might still continue bright,
But who can help it, if you'll make it night?
The Gods have given you power of life and death,
Like them to save, or ruin, with a breath.

Cort. That power they to your father did dispose, 'Twas in his choice to make us friends or foes.

Alib. Injurious strength would rapine still excuse,
By offering terms the weaker must refuse;
And such as these your hard conditions are,
You threaten peace, and you invite a war.

Cort. If for myself to conquer here I came,
You might perhaps my actions justly blame:
Now I am sent, and am not to dispute
My prince's orders, but to execute.

Alib. He, who his prince so blindly does obey, To keep his faith his virtue throws away.

Cort. Monarchs may err; but should each private breast Judge their ill acts, they would dispute their best.

Cyd. Then all your care is for your prince, I see;
Your truth to him out-weighs your love to me:
You may so cruel to deny me prove,
But never after that pretend to love.

Cort. Command my life, and I will soon obey; To save my honour I my blood will pay.

Cyd. What is this honour which does love controul?

Cort. A raging fit of virtue in the soul; A painful burden which great minds must bear, Obtained with danger, and possest with fear.

Cyd. Lay down that burden if it painful grow; You'll find, without it, love will lighter go.

Cort. Honour, once lost, is never to be found.

Alib. Perhaps he looks to have both passions crowned; First dye his honour in a purple flood, Then court the daughter in the father's blood.

Cort. The edge of war I'll from the battle take, And spare her father's subjects for her sake.

Cyd. I cannot love you less when I'm refused.
But I can die to be unkindly used;
Where shall a maid's distracted heart find rest.
If she can miss it in her lover's breast?

Cort. I till to-morrow will the fight delay; Remember you have conquered me to-day.

Alib. This grant destroys all you have urged before;
Honour could not give this, or can give more.
Our women in the foremost ranks appear;
March to the fight, and meet your mistress there:
Into the thickest squadrons she must run,
Kill her, and see what honour will be won.

Cyd. I must he in the battle, but I'll go
With empty quiver, and unbended bow;
Not draw an arrow in this fatal strife,
For fear its point should reach your noble life.

Enter PIZARRO.

Cort. No more: your kindness wounds me to the death:
Honour, be gone! what art thou but a breath?
I'll live, proud of my infamy and shame,
Graced with no triumph but a lover's name;
Men can but say, love did his reason blind,
And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.—
Draw off my men; the war's already done.

Piz. Your orders come too late, the fight's begun; The enemy gives on, with fury led, And fierce Orbellan combats at their head.

Cort. He justly fears, a peace with me would
prove
Of ill concernment to his haughty love;
Retire, fair excellence! I go to meet
New honour, but to lay it at your feet.

[Exeunt CORTEZ, VASQUEZ, and PIZARRO.]

Enter ODMAR and GUTOMAR, to ALIBECH and CYDARIA.

Odm. Now, madam, since a danger does appear
Worthy my courage, though below my fear;
Give leave to him, who may in battle die,
Before his death, to ask his destiny.

Guy. He cannot die, whom you command to live; Before the fight, you can the conquest give; Speak, where you'll place it?

Alib. Briefly, then, to both,
One I in secret love, the other loathe;
But where I hate, my hate I will not show,
And he, I love, my love shall never know;
True worth shall gain me, that it may be said,
Desert, not fancy, once a woman led.
He who, in fight, his courage shall oppose,
With most success, against his country's foes,
From me shall all that recompence receive,
That valour merits, or that love can give.
'Tis true, my hopes and fears are all for one,
But hopes and fears are to myself alone.
Let him not shun the danger of the strife;
I but his love, his country claims his life.

Odm. All obstacles my courage shall remove.

Guy. Fall on, fall on.

Odm. For liberty!

Guy. For love!

[Exeunt, the women following.

SCENE III.—Changes to the Indian country.

Enter Montezuma, attended by the Indians.

Mont. Charge, charge! their ground the faint Taxallans yield!
Bold in close ambush, base in open field.
The envious devil did my fortune wrong:—
Thus fought, thus conquered I, when I was young.

[Exit.

Alarm. Enter CORTEZ bloody.

Cort. Furies pursue these false Taxallans' flight;
Dare they be friends to us, and dare not fight?
What friends can cowards be, what hopes appear
Of help from such, who, where they hate, show fear!

Enter PIZARRO and VASQUEZ.

Piz. The field grows thin; and those, that now remain, Appear but like the shadows of the slain.

Vasq. The fierce old king is vanished from the place, And, in a cloud of dust, pursues the chase.

Cort. Their eager chase disordered does appear, Command our horse to charge them in the rear: [To PIZARRO. You to our old Castilian foot retire, [To VASQ. Who yet stand firm, and at their backs give fire. [Exeunt severally.

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.