mp_. O, my Acacis!
What cruel cause could urge this fatal deed?--

[_Weeps_.

He faints!--help, help! some help! or he will bleed
His life, and mine, away!--
Some water there!--Not one stirs from his place!
I'll use my tears to sprinkle on his face.

_Aca_. Orazia,--

_Zemp_. Fond child! why dost thou call upon her name?
I am thy mother.

_Aca_. No, you are my shame.
That blood is shed that you had title in,
And with your title may it end your sin!--
Unhappy prince, you may forgive me now,
Thus bleeding for my mother's cruel vow.

_Inca_. Be not concerned for me;
Death's easier than the changes I have seen:
I would not live to trust the world again.

_Mont_. Into my eyes sorrow begins to creep;
When hands are tied, it is no shame to weep.

_Aca_. Dear Montezuma,
I may be still your friend, though I must die
Your rival in her love: Eternity
Has room enough for both; there's no desire,
Where to enjoy is only to admire:
There we'll meet friends, when this short storm is past.

_Mont_. Why must I tamely wait to perish last?

_Aca_. Orazia weeps, and my parched soul appears
Refreshed by that kind shower of pitying tears;
Forgive those faults my passion did commit,
'Tis punished with the life that nourished it;
I had no power in this extremity
To save your life, and less to see you die.
My eyes would ever on this object stay,
But sinking nature takes the props away.
Kind death,
To end with pleasures all my miseries,
Shuts up your image in my closing eyes.

[_Dies_.

_Enter a Messenger_.

_Mess_. To arms, to arms!

_Trax_. From whence this sudden fear?

_Mess_. Stand to your guard, my lord, the danger's near:
From every quarter crowds of people meet,
And, leaving houses empty, fill the street.

[_Exit Mess_.

_Trax_. Fond queen, thy fruitless tears a while defer;
Rise, we must join again--Not speak, nor stir!
I hear the people's voice like winds that roar,
When they pursue the flying waves to shore.

_Enter Second Messenger_.

_2 Mess_. Prepare to fight, my lord; the banished queen,
With old Garucca, in the streets are seen.

_Trax_. We must go meet them or it be too late;
Yet, madam, rise; have you no sense of fate?

_Enter third Messenger_.

_3 Mess_. King Montezuma their loud shouts proclaim,
The city rings with their new sovereign's name;
The banished queen declares he is her son,
And to his succour all the people run.

[ZEMPOALLA _rises_.

_Zemp_. Can this be true? O love!