n
them_.

ZEMPOALLA _descends from her triumphant throne,
and_ ACACIS _and_ MONTEZUMA _are brought in before
her.

Zemp_. Shame of my blood, and traitor to thy own:
Born to dishonour, not command a throne!
Hast thou, with envious eyes, my triumph seen?
Or couldst not see thy mother in thy queen?
Couldst thou a stranger above me prefer?

_Aca_. It was my honour made my duty err;
I could not see his prisoners forced away,
To whom I owed my life, and you the day.

_Zemp_. Is that young man the warrior so renowned?

_Mont_. Yes, he, that made thy men thrice quit their ground.
Do, smile at Montezuma's chains; but know,
His valour gave thee power to use him so.

_Trax_. Grant that it did, what can his merits be,
That sought his vengeance, not our victory?
What has thy brutish fury gained us more,
Than only healed the wounds, it gave before?
Die then, for, whilst thou liv'st, wars cannot cease;
Thou may'st bring victory, but never peace.
Like a black storm thou roll'st about us all,
Even to thyself unquiet, till thy fall.
[_Draws to kill him_.

_Aca_. Unthankful villain, hold!

_Trax_. You must not give
Him succour, sir.

_Aca_. Why then, I must not live.
Posterity shall ne'er report, they had
Such thankless fathers, or a prince so bad.

_Zemp_. You're both too bold to will or to deny:
On me alone depends his destiny.
Tell me, audacious stranger, whence could rise
The confidence of this rash enterprise?

_Mont_. First tell me, how you dared to force from me
The fairest spoils of my own victory?

_Zemp_. Kill him--hold, must he die?--why, let him die;--
Whence should proceed this strange diversity.
In my resolves?
Does he command in chains? What would he do,
Proud slave, if he were free, and I were so?
But is he bound, ye gods, or am I free?
'Tis love, 'tis love, that thus disorders me.
How pride and love tear my divided soul!
For each too narrow, yet both claim it whole:
Love, as the younger, must be forced away.--
Hence with the captives, general, and convey
To several prisons that young man, and this
Peruvian woman.

_Trax_. How concerned she is!
I must know more.

_Mont_. Fair princess, why should I
Involve that sweetness in my destiny?
I could out-brave my death, were I alone
To suffer, but my fate must pull yours on.
My breast is armed against all sense of fear;
But where your image lies, 'tis tender there.

_Inca_. Forbear thy saucy love, she cannot be
So low, but still she is too h