Zemp.  Live thou whom I must love, and yet must hate; She gave thee life, who knows it brings her fate.

Mont.  Life is a trifle which I would not take,
But for Orazia’s and her father’s sake: 
Now, Inca, hate me, if thou canst; for he,
Whom thou hast scorned, will die, or rescue thee.

As he goes to attack the guards with TRAXALLA’S sword, enter AMEXIA, GARUCCA, Indians, driving some of the other party before them.

Gar.  He lives; ye gods, he lives! great queen, see here Your coming joys, and your departing fear.

Amex.  Wonder and joy so fast together flow,
Their haste to pass has made their passage slow;
Like struggling waters in a vessel pent,
Whose crowding drops choak up the narrow vent. 
My son!—­

[She embraces him.

Mont.  I am amazed! it cannot be That fate has such a joy in store for me.

Amex.  Can I not gain belief that this is true?

Mont.  It is my fortune I suspect, not you.

Gar.  First ask him if he old Garucca know.

Mont.  My honoured father! let me fall thus low.

Gar.  Forbear, great prince; ’tis I must pay to you
That adoration, as my sovereign’s due: 
For, from my humble race you did not spring;
You are the issue of our murdered king,
Sent by that traitor to his blest abode,
Whom, to be made a king, he made a god: 
The story is too full of fate to tell,
Or what strange fortune our lost queen befel.

Amex.  That sad relation longer time will crave;
I lived obscure, he bred you in a cave,
But kept the mighty secret from your ear,
Lest heat of blood to some strange course should steer
Your youth.

Mont.  I owe him all, that now I am;
He taught me first the noble thirst of fame. 
Shewed me the baseness of unmanly fear,
Till the unlicked whelp I plucked from the rough bear,
And made the ounce and tyger give me way,
While from their hungry jaws I snatched the prey: 
’Twas he that charged my young arms first with toils,
And drest me glorious in my savage spoils.

Gar.  You spent in shady forest all the day,
And joyed, returning, to shew me the prey,
To tell the story, to describe the place,
With all the pleasures of the boasted chace;
Till fit for arms, I reaved you from your sport,
To train your youth in the Peruvian court: 
I left you there, and ever since have been
The sad attendant of my exiled queen.

Zemp.  My fatal dream comes to my memory;
That lion, whom I held in bonds, was he,
Amexia was the dove that broke his chains;
What now but Zempoalla’s death remains?

Mont.  Pardon, fair princess, if I must delay
My love a while, my gratitude to pay. 
Live, Zempoalla—­free from dangers live,
For present merits I past crimes forgive: 
Oh, might she hope Orazia’s pardon, too!