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?