[The Taxallans retire.

Mont.  The fierce Taxatlans lay their weapons down, Some miracle in our relief is shewn.

Guy.  These bearded men in shape and colour be Like those I saw come floating on the sea.

[MONT. kneels to CORT.

Mont.  Patron of Mexico, and God of wars, Son of the sun, and brother of the stars—­

Cort.  Great monarch, your devotion you misplace.

Mont.  Thy actions shew thee born of heavenly race. 
If then thou art that cruel God, whose eyes
Delight in blood, and human sacrifice,
Thy dreadful altars I with slaves will store,
And feed thy nostrils with hot reeking gore;
Or if that mild and gentle God thou be,
Who dost mankind below with pity see,
With breath of incense I will glad thy heart;
But if, like us, of mortal seed thou art,
Presents of choicest fowls, and fruits I’ll bring,
And in my realms thou shalt be more than king.

Cort.  Monarch of empires, and deserving more
Than the sun sees upon your western shore;
Like you a man, and hither led by fame,
Not by constraint, but by my choice, I came;
Ambassador of peace, if peace you chuse,
Or herald of a war, if you refuse.

Mont.  Whence, or from whom, dost thou these offers bring?

Cort.  From Charles the Fifth, the world’s most potent king.

Mont.  Some petty prince, and one of little fame,
For to this hour I never heard his name: 
The two great empires of the world I know,
That of Peru, and this of Mexico;
And since the earth none larger does afford,
This Charles is some poor tributary lord.

Cort.  You speak of that small part of earth you know;
But betwixt us and you wide oceans flow,
And watry desarts of so vast extent,
That passing hither four full moons we spent.

Mont.  But say, what news, what offers dost thou bring From so remote, and so unknown a king?

[While VASQUEZ speaks, CORTEZ spies the ladies and goes to them, entertaining CYDARIA with courtship in dumb shew.

Vasq.  Spain’s mighty monarch, to whom heaven thinks fit,
That all the nations of the earth submit,
In gracious clemency, does condescend
On these conditions to become your friend. 
First, that of him you shall your sceptre hold;
Next, you present him with your useless gold: 
Last, that you leave those idols you implore,
And one true deity with him adore.

Mont.  You speak your prince a mighty emperor,
But his demands have spoke him proud and poor;
He proudly at my free-born sceptre flies,
Yet poorly begs a metal I despise. 
Gold thou mayest take, whatever thou canst find,
Save what for sacred uses is designed: 
But, by what right pretends your king to be
The sovereign lord of all the world and me?