Mont. I beg not empires, those my sword can gain;
But, for my past and future service too,
What I have done, and what I mean to do;
For this of Mexico which I have won,
And kingdoms I will conquer yet unknown;
I only ask from fair Orazia's eyes
To reap the fruits of all my victories.
1 Peru. Our Inca's colour mounts into his face.
2 Peru. His looks speak death.
Inca. Young man of unknown race,
Ask once again; so well thy merits plead,
Thou shall not die for that which thou hast said;
The price of what thou ask'st, thou dost not know;
That gift's too high.
Mont. And all besides too low.
Inca. Once more I bid thee ask.
Mont. Once more I make The same demand.
Inca. The Inca bids thee take Thy choice, what towns, what kingdoms thou would'st have.
Mont. Thou giv'st me only what before I gave. Give me thy daughter.
Inca. Thou deserv'st to die.
O thou great author of our progeny,
Thou glorious sun, dost thou not blush to shine,
While such base blood attempts to mix with thine!