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.