Orb.  The insolence of Spaniards caused my fear, Who in the dark pursued me entering here.

Cort.  Their crimes shall meet immediate punishment, But stay thou safe within the general’s tent.

Orb.  Still worse and worse.

Cort.  Fear not, but follow me; Upon my life I’ll set thee safe and free.

[CORTEZ leads him in, and returns.  To him VASQUEZ, PIZARRO, and Spaniards with Torches.

Vasq.  O sir, thank heaven, and your brave Indian friend,
That you are safe; Orbellan did intend
This night to kill you sleeping in your tent: 
But Guyomar his trusty slave has sent,
Who, following close his silent steps by night,
Till in our camp they both approached the light,
Cried-Seize the traitor, seize the murtherer! 
The cruel villain fled I know not where;
But far he is not, for he this way bent.

Piz.  The enraged soldiers seek, from tent to tent, With lighted torches, and in love to you, With bloody vows his hated life pursue.

Vasq.  This messenger does, since he came, relate,
That the old king, after a long debate,
By his imperious mistress blindly led,
Has given Cydaria to Orbellan’s bed.

Cort.  Vasquez, the trusty slave with you retain;
Retire a while, I’ll call you back again. [Exeunt VASQ. and PIZ. 
 CORTEZ at his tent door. 
Indian, come forth; your enemies are gone,
And I, who saved you from them, here alone.

 Enter ORBELLAN, holding his face aside.

You hide your face, as you were still afraid: 
Dare you not look on him, who gave you aid?

Orb.  Moon, slip behind some cloud, some tempest, rise, And blow out all the stars that light the skies, To shrowd my shame!

Cort.  In vain you turn aside, And hide your face; your name you cannot hide:  I know my rival and his black design.

Orb.  Forgive it, as my passion’s fault, not mine.

Cort.  In your excuse your love does little say; You might, howe’er, have took a fairer way.

Orb.  ’Tis true, my passion small defence can make; Yet you must spare me for your honour’s sake, That was engaged to set me safe and free.

Cort.  ’Twas to a stranger, not an enemy: 
Nor is it prudence to prolong thy breath,
When all my hopes depend upon thy death;
Yet none shall tax me with base perjury: 
Something I’ll do, both for myself and thee;
With vowed revenge my soldiers search each tent,
If thou art seen, none can thy death prevent;
Follow my steps with silence and with haste.

SCENE III.

They go out, the Scene changes to the Indian Country, they return.

Cort.  Now you are safe, you have my outguards past.