friends pursue your enemies.
The greatest and most cruel foes we have,
Are these, whom you would ignorantly save.
By ambushed men, behind their temple laid,
We have the king of Mexico betrayed.

_Cort_. Where, banished virtue, wilt thou shew thy face,
If treachery infects thy Indian race?
Dismiss your rage, and lay your weapons by:
Know I protect them, and they shall not die.

_Ind_. O wondrous mercy, shewn to foes distrest!

_Cort_. Call them not so, when once with odds opprest;
Nor are they foes my clemency defends,
Until they have refused the name of friends:
Draw up our Spaniards by themselves, then fire
Our guns on all, who do not strait retire.

[_To_ VASQ.

_Ind_. O mercy, mercy! at thy feet we fall,
[_Indians kneeling_.
Before thy roaring Gods destroy us all:
See, we retreat without the least reply;
Keep thy Gods silent! if they speak we die.

[_The Taxallans retire_.

_Mont_. The fierce Taxatlans lay their weapons down,
Some miracle in our relief is shewn.

_Guy_. These bearded men in shape and colour be
Like those I saw come floating on the sea.

[MONT. _kneels to_ CORT.

_Mont_. Patron of Mexico, and God of wars,
Son of the sun, and brother of the stars--

_Cort_. Great monarch, your devotion you misplace.

_Mont_. Thy actions shew thee born of heavenly race.
If then thou art that cruel God, whose eyes
Delight in blood, and human sacrifice,
Thy dreadful altars I with slaves will store,
And feed thy nostrils with hot reeking gore;
Or if that mild and gentle God thou be,
Who dost mankind below with pity see,
With breath of incense I will glad thy heart;
But if, like us, of mortal seed thou art,
Presents of choicest fowls, and fruits I'll bring,
And in my realms thou shalt be more than king.

_Cort_. Monarch of empires, and deserving more
Than the sun sees upon your western shore;
Like you a man, and hither led by fame,
Not by constraint, but by my choice, I came;
Ambassador of peace, if peace you chuse,
Or herald of a war, if you refuse.

_Mont_. Whence, or from whom, dost thou these offers bring?

_Cort_. From Charles the Fifth, the world's most potent king.

_Mont_. Some petty prince, and one of little fame,
For to this hour I never heard his name:
The two great empires of the world I know,
That of Peru, and this of Mexico;
And since the earth none larger does afford,
This Charles is some poor tributary lord.

_Cort_. You speak of that small part of earth you know;
But be