Chr. Pr. Come, let's away, We but provoke his fury by our stay.
Cort. If this go free, farewell that discipline,
Which did in Spanish camps severely shine:
Accursed gold, 'tis thou hast caused these crimes;
Thou turn'st our steel against thy parent climes!
And into Spain wilt fatally be brought,
Since with the price of blood thou here art bought.
[Exeunt Priest and PIZARRO. [CORTEZ kneels by MONTEZUMA, and weeps.
Cort. Can you forget those crimes they did commit?
Mont. I'll do what for my dignity is fit:
Rise, sir, I'm satisfied the fault was theirs:
Trust me, you make me weep to see your tears:
Must I chear you?
Cort. Ah heavens!
Mont. You're much to blame;
Your grief is cruel, for it shows my shame,
Does my lost crown to my remembrance bring:
But weep not you, and I'll be still a king.
You have forgot, that I your death designed,
To satisfy the proud Almeria's mind:
You, who preserved my life, I doomed to die.
Cort. Your love did that, and not your cruelty.
Enter a Spaniard.
Span. Prince Guyomar the combat still maintains,
Our men retreat, and he their ground regains:
But once encouraged by our general's sight,
We boldly should renew the doubtful fight.