SCENE II.

CYDARIA and ALIBECH, betwixt the two armies.

Alib.  Blessings will crown your name, if you prevent
That blood, which in this battle will be spent;
Nor need you fear so just a suit to move,
Which both becomes your duty and your love.

Cyd.  But think you he will come? their camp is near, And he already knows I wait him here.

Alib.  You are too young your power to understand,
Lovers take wing upon the least command;
Already he is here.

Enter CORTEZ and VASQUEZ to them.

Cort.  Methinks, like two black storms on either hand,
Our Spanish army and your Indians stand;
This only space betwixt the clouds is clear,
Where you, like day, broke loose from both appear.

Cyd.  Those closing skies might still continue bright,
But who can help it, if you’ll make it night? 
The Gods have given you power of life and death,
Like them to save, or ruin, with a breath.

Cort.  That power they to your father did dispose, ’Twas in his choice to make us friends or foes.

Alib.  Injurious strength would rapine still excuse,
By offering terms the weaker must refuse;
And such as these your hard conditions are,
You threaten peace, and you invite a war.

Cort.  If for myself to conquer here I came,
You might perhaps my actions justly blame: 
Now I am sent, and am not to dispute
My prince’s orders, but to execute.

Alib.  He, who his prince so blindly does obey, To keep his faith his virtue throws away.

Cort.  Monarchs may err; but should each private breast Judge their ill acts, they would dispute their best.

Cyd.  Then all your care is for your prince, I see;
Your truth to him out-weighs your love to me: 
You may so cruel to deny me prove,
But never after that pretend to love.

Cort.  Command my life, and I will soon obey; To save my honour I my blood will pay.

Cyd.  What is this honour which does love controul?

Cort.  A raging fit of virtue in the soul; A painful burden which great minds must bear, Obtained with danger, and possest with fear.

Cyd.  Lay down that burden if it painful grow; You’ll find, without it, love will lighter go.

Cort.  Honour, once lost, is never to be found.

Alib.  Perhaps he looks to have both passions crowned;
First dye his honour in a purple flood,
Then court the daughter in the father’s blood.

Cort.  The edge of war I’ll from the battle take, And spare her father’s subjects for her sake.

Cyd.  I cannot love you less when I’m refused. 
But I can die to be unkindly used;
Where shall a maid’s distracted heart find rest. 
If she can miss it in her lover’s breast?