Mont. That sun, thou speak'st of, did not hide his face, When he beheld me conquering with his race.
Inca. My fortunes gave thee thy success in fight! Convey thy boasted valour from my sight; I can o'ercome without thy feeble aid.
[Exeunt Inca, ORAZIA, and Peruvians.
Mont. And is it thus my services are paid? Not all his guards—
[Offers to go, ACACIS holds him.
Aca. Hold, sir.
Mont. Unhand me.
Aca. No, I must your rage prevent
From doing what your reason would repent;
Like the vast seas, your mind no limits knows,
Like them, lies open to each wind that blows.
Mont. Can a revenge, that is so just, be ill?
Aca. It is Orazia's father, you would kill.