urns into a tune
expressing an alarm, at which the Boy awakes, and speaks;

_Boy_. WAKE, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease,
And fly together with our country's peace!
No more must we sleep under plantain shade,
Which neither heat could pierce, nor cold invade;
Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
And opening buds drive falling fruits away.

_Que_. Why should men quarrel here, where all possess
As much as they can hope for by success?--
None can have most, where nature is so kind,
As to exceed man's use, though not his mind.

_Boy_. By ancient prophecies we have been told,
Our world shall be subdued by one more old;--
And, see, that world already hither come.

_Que_. If these be they, we welcome then our doom!
Their looks are Such, that mercy flows from thence,
More gentle than our native innocence.

_Boy_. Why should we then fear these, our enemies,
That rather seem to us like deities?

_Que_. By their protection, let us beg to live;
They came not here to conquer, but forgive.--
If so, your goodness may your power express,
And we shall judge both best by our success.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

_The Inca of Peru_.
MONTEZUMA, _his General_.
ACACIS, _son to_ ZEMPOALLA.
TRAXALLA, _General to_ ZEMPOALLA.
GARUCCA, _a faithful subject to_ AMEXIA.
_The God of Dreams_.
ISMERON, _one of the prophets, a conjuror_.
_Officers and Soldiers.
Peruvians and Mexicans.
Priests_.

AMEXIA, _the lawful queen of Mexico_.
ZEMPOALLA, _the usurping Indian Queen_.
ORAZIA,_daughter to the Inca_.
_Attendants of Ladies_.

THE
INDIAN QUEEN.

ACT I. SCENE I.

_Enter Inca,_ ORAZIA, MONTEZUMA, ACACIS, _prisoners, with
Peruvians_.

_Inca_. Thrice have the Mexicans before us fled,
Their armies broke, their prince in triumph led;
Both to thy valour, brave young man, we owe;
Ask thy reward, but such as it may show
It is a king thou hast obliged, whose mind
Is large, and, like his fortune, unconfined.

_Mont_. Young, and a stranger, to your court I
came,
There, by your favour, raised to what I am:
I conquer, but in right of your great fate,
And so your arms, not mine, are fortunate.

_Inca_. I am impatient, till this debt be paid.
Which still encreases on me while delayed;
A bounteous monarch to himself is kind:
Ask such a gift as may for ever bind
Thy service to my empire, and to me.

_Mont_. What can this gift, he bids me ask him, be!
Perhaps he has perceived our mutual fires,
And now, with our