[Spaniards are led out.

1 Ind.  See, sir, how quickly your success is spread; The king comes marching in the army’s head.

Enter Montezuma, Alibech, Odmar discontented.

Mont.  Now all the Gods reward and bless my son. [Embracing.  Thou hast this day thy father’s youth outdone.

Alib.  Just heaven all happiness upon him shower, Till it confess its will beyond its power.

Guy.  The heavens are kind, the Gods propitious be, I only doubt a mortal deity:  I neither fought for Conquest, nor for fame, Your love alone can recompence my flame.

Alib.  I gave my love to the most brave in war; But that the king must judge.

Mont.—­’Tis Guyomar.

[Soldiers shout, A Guyomar, &c.

Mont.  This day your nuptials we will celebrate;
But guard these haughty captives ’till their fate: 
Odmar, this night to keep them be your care,
To-morrow for their sacrifice prepare.

Alib.  Blot not your conquest with your cruelty.

Mont.  Fate says, we are not safe unless they die: 
The spirit, that foretold this happy day,
Bid me use caution and avoid delay: 
Posterity be juster to my fame;
Nor call it murder, when each private man
In his defence may justly do the same: 
But private persons more than monarchs can: 
  All weigh our acts, and whate’er seems unjust,
  Impute not to necessity, but lust.

[Exeunt MONTEZUMA, GUYOMAR and ALIBECH.

Odm.  Lost and undone! he had my father’s voice,
And Alibech seemed pleased with her new choice: 
Alas, it was not new! too late I see,
Since one she hated, that it must be me. 
—­I feel a strange temptation in my will
To do an action, great at once and ill: 
Virtue, ill treated, from my soul is fled;
I by revenge and love am wholly led: 
Yet conscience would against my rage rebel—­
Conscience, the foolish pride of doing well! 
Sink empire, father perish, brother fall,
Revenge does more than recompence you all. 
Conduct the prisoners in.

Enter VASQUEZ, and PIZARRO.

Spaniards, you See your own deplored estate: 
What dare you do to reconcile your fate?

Vasq.  All that despair, with courage joined, can do.

Odm.  An easy way to victory I’ll shew;
When all are buried in their sleep or joy,
I’ll give you arms, burn, ravish, and destroy;
For my own share one beauty I design;
Engage your honour that she shall be mine.

Piz.  I gladly swear.

Vasq.—­And I; but I request That, in return, one, who has touched my breast, Whose name I know not, may be given to me.

Odm.  Spaniard, ’tis just; she’s yours, whoe’er she be.

Vasq.  The night comes on:  if fortune bless the bold, I shall possess the beauty.