ACT IV.
SCENE I.—The scene opens, and discovers MONTEZUMA sleeping in prison.
Enter TRAXALLA leading in ORAZIA.
Trax. Now take your choice, and bid him live or die;
To both shew pity, or shew cruelty:
'Tis you that must condemn, I'll only act;
Your sentence is more cruel than my fact.
Oraz. You are most cruel, to disturb a mind, Which to approaching fate was so resigned.
Trax. Reward my passion, and you'll quickly prove
There's none dare sacrifice what I dare love.
Next to thee, stranger; wake, and now resign
The bold pretences of thy love to mine,
Or in this fatal minute thou shalt find—
Mont. Death, fool; in that thou may'st be just and kind:
'Twas I that loved Orazia, yet did raise
The storm, in which she sinks: Why dost thou gaze,
Or stay thy hand from giving that just stroke,
Which, rather than prevent, I would provoke?
When I am dead, Orazia may forgive;
She never must, if I dare wish to live.
Oraz. Hold, hold—O Montezuma, can you be
So careless of yourself, but more of me?
Though you have brought me to this misery,
I blush to say I cannot see you die.
Mont. Can my approaching fate such pity move? The gods and you at once forgive and love.
Trax. Fond fool, thus to mis-spend that little breath
I lent thee to prevent, not hasten, death:
Let her thank you she was unfortunate,
And you thank her for pulling on your fate;
Prove to each other your own destinies. [Draws.
Enter ZEMPOALLA hastily, and sets a dagger to ORAZIA'S breast.
Zemp. Hold, hold, Traxalla, or Orazia dies.—
O, is't Orazia's name that makes you stay?
'Tis her great power, not mine, that you obey.
Inhuman wretch, dar'st thou the murderer be
Of him, that is not yet condemned by me?
Trax. The wretch, that gave you all the power you have,
May venture sure to execute a slave;
And quench a flame your fondness would have burn,
Which may this city into ashes turn,
The nation in your guilty passion lost;
To me ungrateful, to your country most:
But this shall be their offering, I their priest.
Zemp. The wounds, thou giv'st, I'll copy on her breast:
Strike, and I'll open here a spring of blood,
Shall add new rivers to the crimson flood.
How his pale looks are fixed on her!—'tis so.
Oh, does amazement on your spirits grow?
What, is your public love Orazia's grown?
Could'st thou see mine, and yet not hide thy own?
Suppose I should strike first, would it not breed
Grief in your public heart to see her bleed?
Trax. She mocks my passion; in her sparkling eyes
Death, and a close dissembled fury lies:
I dare not trust her thus. [Aside.]—If she must die,
The way to her loved life through mine shall lie.
[He puts her by, and steps before ORAZIA; and she runs before MONTEZUMA.
Zemp. And he, that does this stranger's fate design, Must, to his heart, a passage force through mine.
Trax. Can fair Orazia yet no pity have? 'Tis just she should her own preserver save.
Zemp. Can Montezuma so ungrateful prove To her, that gave him life, and offers love?
Oraz. Can Montezuma live, and live to be
Just to another, and unjust to me?
You need not be ungrateful; can she give
A life to you, if you refuse to live?—
Forgive my passion; I had rather see
You dead, than kind to any thing but me.
Mont. O, my Orazia!
To what new joys and knowledge am I brought!
Are death's hard lessons by a woman taught?
How to despise my fate I always knew;
But ne'er durst think, at once, of death and you:
Yet since you teach this generous jealousy,
I dare not wish your life, if I must die.
How much your love my courage does exceed!
Courage alone would shrink to see you bleed!
Zemp. Ungrateful stranger! thou shalt please thy eyes,
And gaze upon Orazia while she dies!—
I'll keep my vow!—It is some joy to see,
That my revenge will prove my piety.
Trax. Then both shall die!—We have too long withstood, By private passions urged, the public good.
Zemp. Sure he dissembles; and, perhaps, may prove My ruin, with his new ambitious love: Were but this stranger kind, I'd cross his art, And give my empire, where I gave my heart. [Aside. Yet, thou ungrateful man, Let thy approaching ruin make thee wise.
Mont. Thee, and thy love, and mischief, I despise!
Zemp. What shall I do? Some way must yet be tried;— What reason can she use whom passions guide!
[Aside. Trax. Some black designs are hatching now:—False eyes Are quick to see another's treacheries.
[Aside. Zemp. Rash stranger, thus to pull down thy own fate!
Mont. You, and that life you offer me, I hate.
Enter Jailor.
Zemp. Here, jailor, take—What title must he have? Slave, slave!—Am I then captive to a slave?— Why art thou thus unwilling to be free?
Mont. Death will release me from these chains, and thee.
Zemp. Here, jailor, take this monster from my sight,
And keep him where it may be always night.
Let none come near him; if thou dost, expect
To pay thy life, the price of the neglect.
Mont. I scorn thy pity, and thy cruelty; And should despise a blessing sent from thee.
Zemp. O, horror to my soul! take him away!—
My rage, like dammed-up streams, swelled by some stay,
Shall, from this opposition, get new force,
And leave the bound of its old easy course.—
Come, my Traxalla, let us both forgive,
And in these wretches' fates begin to live.
The altars shall be crowned with funeral boughs,
Peace-offerings paid,—but with unquiet vows.
[Exeunt ZEMP. and TRAX.
Oraz. How are things ordered, that the wicked should
Appear more kind and gentle than the good?
Her passion seems to make her kinder prove,
And I seem cruel through excess of love:
She loves, and would prevent his death; but I,
That love him better, fear he should not die.
My jealousy, immortal as my love,
Would rob my grave below, and me above,
Of rest.—Ye gods, if I repine, forgive!
You neither let me die in peace, nor live.
Enter ACACIS, Jailor, and Indian.
Jail. They are just gone, sir.
Aca. 'Tis well: Be faithful to my just design, And all thy prince's fortune shall be thine. [Exit ACACIS.
Ind. This shall to the empress. [Exit Indian.
Oraz. What can this mean!—
'Twas Prince Acacis, if I durst believe
My sight; but sorrow may like joy deceive:
Each object different from itself appears,
That comes not to the eyes, but through their tears.
Enter ACACIS, bringing in MONTEZUMA. Ha!—
Aca. Here, sir, wear this again;—[Gives a sword. Now follow me.
Mont. So, very good;— I dare not think, for I may guess amiss; None can deceive me while I trust in this. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter ORAZIA, conducted by two Indians with their swords drawn; MONTEZUMA, ACACIS whispering another Indian.
Aca. Think what a weight upon thy faith I lay.
Ind. I ne'er did more unwillingly obey.
Aca. First, Montezuma, take thy liberty;
Thou gavest me freedom, here I set thee free:
We're equal now. Madam, the danger's great
Of close pursuit; to favour your retreat,
Permit we two a little while remain
Behind, while you go softly o'er the plain.
Oraz. Why should I go before?—What's your intent?— Where is my father?—Whither am I sent?
Aca. Your doubts shall soon be cleared. Conduct her on.
[Exit ORAZIA.
So, Montezuma, we are now alone.
That which my honour owed thee I have paid;
As honour was, so love must be obeyed.
I set Orazia, as thy captive, free;
But, as my mistress, ask her back from thee.
Mont. Thou hast performed what honour bid thee do: But friendship bars what honour prompts me to.— Friends should not fight.
Aca. If friendship we profess,
Let us secure each others happiness:
One needs must die, and he shall happy prove
In her remembrance, t'other in her love.
My guards wait near; and, if I fail, they must
Give up Orazia, or betray their trust.
Mont. Suppose thou conquer'st, would'st thou wander o'er
The south-sea sands, or the rough northern shore,
That parts thy spacious kingdom from Peru,
And, leaving empire, hopeless love pursue?
Aca. By which of all my actions could you guess,
Though more your merit, that my love was less?
What prize can empire with Orazia bear?
Or, where love fills the breast, what room for fear?
Mont. Let fair Orazia then the sentence give, Else he may die whom she desires to live.
Aca. Your greater merits bribe her to your side; My weaker title must by arms be tried.
Mont. Oh, tyrant love! how cruel are thy laws!
I forfeit friendship, or betray thy cause:
That person, whom I would defend from all
The world, that person by my hand must fall.
Aca. Our lives we to each others friendship owe;
But love calls back what friendship did bestow:
Love has its cruelties, but friendship none;
And we now fight in quarrels not our own. [_Fight.
Enter_ ORAZIA.
Oraz. What noise is this?— Hold, hold! what cause could be so great, to move This furious hatred?—
Mont. 'Twas our furious love.—
Aca. Love, which I hid till I had set you free,
And bought your pardon with my liberty;
That done, I thought, I less unjustly might
With Montezuma, for Orazia, fight;
He has prevailed, and I must now confess
His fortune greater, not my passion less;
Yet cannot yield you, till his sword remove
A dying rival, that holds fast his love.
Oraz. Whoever falls, 'tis my protector still,
And then the crime's as great, to die as kill.—
Acacis, do not hopeless love pursue;
But live, and this soft malady subdue.
Aca. You bid me live, and yet command me die!
I am not worth your care;—Fly, madam, fly!
(While I fall here unpitied) o'er this plain,
Free from pursuit, the faithless mountains gain;
And these I charge,
As they would have me think their friendship true,
Leave me alone, to serve, and follow you:
Make haste, fair princess, to avoid that fate,
Which does for your unhappy father wait.
Oraz. Is he then left to die, and shall he see Himself forsaken, ere his death, by me?
Mont. That would you do?
Oraz. To prison I'll return, And there, in fetters, with my father mourn.
Mont. That saves not his, but throws your life away.
Oraz. Duty shall give what nature once must pay.
Aca. Life is the gift, which heaven and parents give, And duty best preserves it, if you live.
Oraz. I should but further from my fountain fly, And, like an unfed stream, run on and die: Urge me no more, and do not grieve to see Your honour rivalled by my piety. [She goes softly of, and often looks back.
Mont. If honour would not, shame would lead the way; I'll back with her.
Aca. Stay, Montezuma, stay!— Thy rival cannot let thee go alone, My love will bear me, though my blood is gone.
[As they are going off,
Enter ZEMPOALLA, TRAXALLA, the Indian that went to tell her, and the rest, and seize them.
Zemp. Seize them!—
Aca. Oh, Montezuma, thou art lost.
Mont. No more, proud heart, thy useless courage boast!— Courage, thou curse of the unfortunate! That canst encounter, not resist, ill fate.
Zemp. Acacis bleeds!— What barbarous hand has wounded thus my son?
Mont. 'Twas I; by my unhappy sword 'twas done.— Thou bleed'st, poor prince, and I am left to grieve My rival's fall.
Trax. He bleeds, but yet may live.
Aca. Friendship and love my failing strength renew;
I dare not die, when I should live for you;
My death were now my crime, as it would be
My guilt to live when I have set you free:
Thus I must still remain unfortunate,
Your life and death are equally my fate.
ORAZIA comes back.
Oraz. A noise again!—alas, what do I see!
Love, thou didst once give place to piety:
Now, piety, let love triumph awhile;—
Here, bind my hands: Come, Montezuma, smile
At fortune; since thou sufferest for my sake,
Orazia will her captive's chains partake.
Mont. Now, fate, thy worst.
Zemp. Lead to the temple straight, A priest and altar for these lovers wait: They shall be joined, they shall.
Trax. And I will prove Those joys in vengeance, which I want in love.
Aca. I'll quench your thirst with blood, and will destroy
Myself, and, with myself, your cruel joy.
Now, Montezuma, since Orazia dies,
I'll fall before thee, the first sacrifice;
My title in her death shall exceed thine,
As much as, in her life, thy hopes did mine:
And when with our mixed blood the altar's dyed,
Then our new title let the gods decide.
[Exeunt.
ACT V. SCENE I.
_The Scene opens, and discovers the Temple of the Sun, all of gold, and four Priests, in habits of white and red feathers, attending by a bloody altar, as ready for sacrifice.
Then enter the Guards_, ZEMPOALLA, and TRAXALLA; Inca, ORAZIA, and MONTEZUMA, bound. As soon as they are placed, the Priest sings.
SONG.
You to whom victory we owe,
Whose glories rise
By sacrifice,
And from our fates below;
Never did your altars shine
Feasted with blood so near divine;
Princes to whom we bow,
As they to you:—
Thus you can ravish from a throne,
And, by their loss of power, declare your own.
Zemp. Now to inflict those punishments, that are
Due to the authors of invasive war;
Who, to deceive the oppressed world, like you,
Invent false quarrels to conceal the true.
Inca. My quarrel was the same, that all the gods
Must have to thee, if there be any odds
Betwixt those titles that are bad or good,
To crowns descended, or usurped by blood:—
Swell not with this success; 'twas not to thee,
But to this man, the gods gave victory.
Mont. Since I must perish by my own success,
Think my misfortunes more, my crimes the less;
And so, forgiving, make me pleased to die,
Thus punished for this guilty victory.
Inca. Death can make virtue easy; I forgive:
That word would prove too hard, were I to live;
The honour of a prince would then deny,
But in the grave all our distinctions die.
Mont. Forgive me one thing yet; to say, I love,
Let it no more your scorn and anger move;
Since, dying in one flame, my ashes must
Embrace and mingle with Orazia's dust.
Inca. Name thy bold love no more, lest that last breath, Which should forgive, I stifle with my death.
Oraz. Oh, my dear father! Oh, why may not I, Since you gave life to me, for you now die?
Mont. 'Tis I, that wrought this mischief, ought to fall
A just and willing sacrifice for all.
Now, Zempoalla, be both just and kind,
And, in my fate, let me thy mercy find:
Be grateful, then, and grant me that esteem,
That as alive, so dead, I may redeem.
Oraz. O, do not for her cruel mercy move; None should ask pity but from those they love.
[Weeps.
Inca. Fond girl! to let thy disobedient eyes Show a concern for him, whom I despise.
Oraz. How love and nature may divide a breast,
At once by both their powers severely prest!
Yet, sir, since love seems less, you may forgive;
I would not have you die, nor have him live;
Yet if he dies, alas! what shall I do?
I cannot die with him, and live with you.
Mont. How vainly we pursue this generous strife,
Parting in death more cruel than in life!—
Weep not, we both shall have one destiny;
As in one flame we lived, in one we'll die.
Trax. Why do we waste in vain these precious hours?
Each minute of his life may hazard ours:
The nation does not live whilst he enjoys
His life, it is his safety that destroys.
He shall fall first, and teach the rest to die.
Zemp. Hold!—
Who is it that commands;—ha! you, or I?—
Your zeal grows saucy!—sure, you may allow
Your empress freedom first to pay her vow.
Trax. She may allow—a justice to be done By him, that raised his empress to her throne.
Zemp. You are too bold,—
Trax. And you too passionate.
Zemp. Take heed, with his, you urge not your own fate.— For all this pity is now due to me.
Mont. I hate thy offered mercy more than thee.
Trax. Why will not then the fair Orazia give Life to herself, and let Traxalla live?
Mont. Orazia will not live, and let me die; She taught me first this cruel jealousy.
Oraz. I joy that you have learned it!— That flame not like immortal love appears. Where death can cool its warmth, or kill its fears.
Zemp. What shall I do? am I so quite forlorn,
No help from my own pride, nor from his scorn!
My rival's death may more effectual prove;
He, that is robbed of hope, may cease to love:—
Here, lead these offerings to their deaths.
Trax. Let none Obey but he, that will pull on his own!
Zemp. Tempt me not thus; false and ungrateful too!
Trax. Just as ungrateful, and as false, as you.
Zemp. 'Tis thy false love that fears her destiny.
Trax. And your false love that fears to have him die.
Zemp. Seize the bold traitor!
Trax. What a slighted frown Troubles your brow! feared nor obeyed by none; Come, prepare for sacrifice.
Enter ACACIS weakly.
Aca. Hold, hold! such sacrifices cannot be
Devotions, but a solemn cruelty:
How can the gods delight in human blood?
Think them not cruel, if you think them good.
In vain we ask that mercy, which they want,
And hope that pity, which they hate to grant.
Zemp. Retire, Acacis;— Preserve thyself, for 'tis in vain to waste Thy breath for them: The fatal vow is past.
Aca. To break that vow is juster than commit A greater crime, by your preserving it.
Zemp. The gods themselves their own will best express To like the vow, by giving the success.
Aca. If all things by success are understood,
Men, that make war, grow wicked to be good:
But did you vow, those that were overcome,
And he that conquered, both, should share one doom?
There's no excuse; for one of these must be
Not your devotion, but your cruelty.
Trax. To that rash stranger, sir, we nothing owe;
What he had raised, he strove to overthrow:
That duty lost, which should our actions guide,
Courage proves guilt, when merits swell to pride.
Aca. Darest thou, who didst thy prince's life betray,
Once name that duty, thou hast thrown away?
Like thy injustice to this stranger shown,
To tax him with a guilt, that is thy own?—
Can you, brave soldiers, suffer him to die,
That gave you life, in giving victory?
Look but upon this stranger, see those hands,
That brought you freedom, fettered up in bands.
Not one looks up,—
Lest sudden pity should their hearts surprise,
And steal into their bosoms through their eyes.
Zemp. Why thus, in vain, are thy weak spirits prest? Restore thyself to thy more needful rest.
Aca. And leave Orazia!—
Zemp. Go, you must resign: For she must be the gods'; not yours, nor mine.
Aca. You are my mother, and my tongue is tied
So much by duty, that I dare not chide.—
Divine Orazia!
Can you have so much mercy to forgive?
I do not ask it with design to live,
But in my death to have my torments cease:
Death is not death, when it can bring no peace.
Oraz. I both forgive, and pity;—
Aca. O, say no more, lest words less kind destroy
What these have raised in me of peace and joy:
You said, you did both pity and forgive;
You would do neither, should Acacis live.
By death alone the certain way appears,
Thus to hope mercy, and deserve your tears.
[Stabs himself.
Zemp. O, my Acacis! What cruel cause could urge this fatal deed?—
[Weeps.
He faints!—help, help! some help! or he will bleed
His life, and mine, away!—
Some water there!—Not one stirs from his place!
I'll use my tears to sprinkle on his face.
Aca. Orazia,—
Zemp. Fond child! why dost thou call upon her name? I am thy mother.
Aca. No, you are my shame.
That blood is shed that you had title in,
And with your title may it end your sin!—
Unhappy prince, you may forgive me now,
Thus bleeding for my mother's cruel vow.
Inca. Be not concerned for me; Death's easier than the changes I have seen: I would not live to trust the world again.
Mont. Into my eyes sorrow begins to creep; When hands are tied, it is no shame to weep.
Aca. Dear Montezuma,
I may be still your friend, though I must die
Your rival in her love: Eternity
Has room enough for both; there's no desire,
Where to enjoy is only to admire:
There we'll meet friends, when this short storm is past.
Mont. Why must I tamely wait to perish last?
Aca. Orazia weeps, and my parched soul appears
Refreshed by that kind shower of pitying tears;
Forgive those faults my passion did commit,
'Tis punished with the life that nourished it;
I had no power in this extremity
To save your life, and less to see you die.
My eyes would ever on this object stay,
But sinking nature takes the props away.
Kind death,
To end with pleasures all my miseries,
Shuts up your image in my closing eyes.
[Dies.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. To arms, to arms!
Trax. From whence this sudden fear?
Mess. Stand to your guard, my lord, the danger's near: From every quarter crowds of people meet, And, leaving houses empty, fill the street.
[Exit Mess.
Trax. Fond queen, thy fruitless tears a while defer;
Rise, we must join again—Not speak, nor stir!
I hear the people's voice like winds that roar,
When they pursue the flying waves to shore.
Enter Second Messenger.
2 Mess. Prepare to fight, my lord; the banished queen, With old Garucca, in the streets are seen.
Trax. We must go meet them or it be too late; Yet, madam, rise; have you no sense of fate?
Enter third Messenger.
3 Mess. King Montezuma their loud shouts proclaim,
The city rings with their new sovereign's name;
The banished queen declares he is her son,
And to his succour all the people run.
[ZEMPOALLA rises.
Zemp. Can this be true? O love! O fate! have I Thus doated on my mortal enemy?
Trax. To my new prince I thus my homage pay; Your reign is short, young king—
Zemp. Traxalla, stay— 'Tis to my hand that he must owe his fate, I will revenge at once my love and hate.
[She sets a dagger to MONTEZUMA'S breast.
Trax. Strike, strike, the conquering enemy is near. My guards are passed, while you detain me here.
Zemp. Die then, ungrateful, die; Amexia's son
Shall never triumph on Acacis' throne.
Thy death must my unhappy flames remove:
Now where is thy defence—against my love?
[She cuts the cords, and gives him the dagger.
Trax. Am I betrayed? [He draws and thrusts at MONTEZUMA, he puts it by and kills him.
Mont. So may all rebels die: This end has treason joined with cruelty.
Zemp. Live thou whom I must love, and yet must hate; She gave thee life, who knows it brings her fate.
Mont. Life is a trifle which I would not take,
But for Orazia's and her father's sake:
Now, Inca, hate me, if thou canst; for he,
Whom thou hast scorned, will die, or rescue thee.
As he goes to attack the guards with TRAXALLA'S sword, enter AMEXIA, GARUCCA, Indians, driving some of the other party before them.
Gar. He lives; ye gods, he lives! great queen, see here Your coming joys, and your departing fear.
Amex. Wonder and joy so fast together flow,
Their haste to pass has made their passage slow;
Like struggling waters in a vessel pent,
Whose crowding drops choak up the narrow vent.
My son!—
[She embraces him.
Mont. I am amazed! it cannot be That fate has such a joy in store for me.
Amex. Can I not gain belief that this is true?
Mont. It is my fortune I suspect, not you.
Gar. First ask him if he old Garucca know.
Mont. My honoured father! let me fall thus low.
Gar. Forbear, great prince; 'tis I must pay to you
That adoration, as my sovereign's due:
For, from my humble race you did not spring;
You are the issue of our murdered king,
Sent by that traitor to his blest abode,
Whom, to be made a king, he made a god:
The story is too full of fate to tell,
Or what strange fortune our lost queen befel.
Amex. That sad relation longer time will crave;
I lived obscure, he bred you in a cave,
But kept the mighty secret from your ear,
Lest heat of blood to some strange course should steer
Your youth.
Mont. I owe him all, that now I am;
He taught me first the noble thirst of fame.
Shewed me the baseness of unmanly fear,
Till the unlicked whelp I plucked from the rough bear,
And made the ounce and tyger give me way,
While from their hungry jaws I snatched the prey:
'Twas he that charged my young arms first with toils,
And drest me glorious in my savage spoils.
Gar. You spent in shady forest all the day,
And joyed, returning, to shew me the prey,
To tell the story, to describe the place,
With all the pleasures of the boasted chace;
Till fit for arms, I reaved you from your sport,
To train your youth in the Peruvian court:
I left you there, and ever since have been
The sad attendant of my exiled queen.
Zemp. My fatal dream comes to my memory;
That lion, whom I held in bonds, was he,
Amexia was the dove that broke his chains;
What now but Zempoalla's death remains?
Mont. Pardon, fair princess, if I must delay
My love a while, my gratitude to pay.
Live, Zempoalla—free from dangers live,
For present merits I past crimes forgive:
Oh, might she hope Orazia's pardon, too!
Oraz. I would have none condemned for loving you; In me her merit much her fault o'erpowers; She sought my life, but she preserved me yours.
Amex. Taught by my own, I pity her estate, And wish her penitence, but not her fate.
Inca. I would not be the last to bid her live; Kings best revenge their wrongs, when they forgive.
Zemp. I cannot yet forget what I have been:
Would you give life to her, that was a queen?
Must you then give, and must I take? there's yet
One way, that's by refusing, to be great:
You bid me live—bid me be wretched too;
Think, think, what pride, unthroned, must undergo:
Look on this youth, Amexia, look, and then
Suppose him yours, and bid me live again;
A greater sweetness on these lips there grows,
Than breath shut out from a new-folded rose:
What lovely charms on these cold cheeks appear!
Could any one hate death, and see it here?
But thou art gone—
Mont. O that you would believe Acacis lives in me, and cease to grieve.
Zemp. Yes, I will cease to grieve, and cease to be.
His soul stays watching in his wound for me;
All that could render life desired is gone,
Orazia has my love, and you my throne,
And death, Acacis—yet I need not die,
You leave me mistress of my destiny;
In spite of dreams, how am I pleased to see,
Heaven's truth, or falsehood, should depend on me!
But I will help the Gods;
The greatest proof of courage we can give,
Is then to die when we have power to live. [Kills herself.
Mont. How fatally that instrument of death Was hid—
Amex. She has expired her latest breath.
Mont. But there lies one, to whom all grief is due.
Oraz. None e'er was so unhappy and so true.
Mont. Your pardon, royal sir.
Inca. You have my love. [Gives him ORAZIA.
Amex. The gods, my son, your happy choice approve.
Mont. Come, my Orazia, then, and pay with me, [Leads her to ACACIS. Some tears to poor Acacis' memory; So strange a fate for men the gods ordain, Our clearest sunshine should be mixt with rain; How equally our joys and sorrows move! Death's fatal triumphs, joined with those of love. Love crowns the dead, and death crowns him that lives, Each gains the conquest, which the other gives. [Exeunt omnes.
EPILOGUE.
SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA.
You see what shifts we are enforced to try,
To help out wit with some variety;
Shows may be found that never yet were seen,
'Tis hard to find such wit as ne'er has been:
You have seen all that this old world can do,
We, therefore, try the fortune of the new,
And hope it is below your aim to hit
At untaught nature with your practised wit:
Our naked Indians, then, when wits appear,
Would as soon chuse to have the Spaniards here.
'Tis true, you have marks enough, the plot, the show,
The poet's scenes, nay, more, the painter's too;
If all this fail, considering the cost,
'Tis a true voyage to the Indies lost:
But if you smile on all, then these designs,
Like the imperfect treasure of our minds,
Will pass for current wheresoe'er they go,
When to your bounteous hands their stamps they owe.