se within_.
They break the truce, and sally out by night.

_Enter_ ORBELLAN, _flying in the dark, his sword
drawn_.

_Orb_. Betrayed! pursued! O, whither shall I fly?
See, see! the just reward of treachery!--
I'm sure among the tents, but know not where;
Even night wants darkness to secure my fear.

[_Comes near_ CORTEZ, _who hears him_.

_Cort_. Stand! who goes there?

_Orb_. Alas, what shall I say?--
[_Aside_.
A poor Taxallan that mistook his way,
And wanders in the terrors of the night.

_Cort_. Soldier, thou seem'st afraid; whence comes thy fright?

_Orb_. The insolence of Spaniards caused my fear,
Who in the dark pursued me entering here.

_Cort_. Their crimes shall meet immediate punishment,
But stay thou safe within the general's tent.

_Orb_. Still worse and worse.

_Cort_. Fear not, but follow me;
Upon my life I'll set thee safe and free.

[CORTEZ _leads him in, and returns.
To him_ VASQUEZ, PIZARRO, _and Spaniards with Torches_.

_Vasq_. O sir, thank heaven, and your brave Indian friend,
That you are safe; Orbellan did intend
This night to kill you sleeping in your tent:
But Guyomar his trusty slave has sent,
Who, following close his silent steps by night,
Till in our camp they both approached the light,
Cried-_Seize the traitor, seize the murtherer_!
The cruel villain fled I know not where;
But far he is not, for he this way bent.

_Piz_. The enraged soldiers seek, from tent to tent,
With lighted torches, and in love to you,
With bloody vows his hated life pursue.

_Vasq_. This messenger does, since he came, relate,
That the old king, after a long debate,
By his imperious mistress blindly led,
Has given Cydaria to Orbellan's bed.

_Cort_. Vasquez, the trusty slave with you retain;
Retire a while, I'll call you back again.
[_Exeunt_ VASQ. _and_ PIZ.
CORTEZ _at his tent door_.
Indian, come forth; your enemies are gone,
And I, who saved you from them, here alone.

_Enter ORBELLAN, holding his face aside_.

You hide your face, as you were still afraid:
Dare you not look on him, who gave you aid?

_Orb_. Moon, slip behind some cloud, some tempest, rise,
And blow out all the stars that light the skies,
To shrowd my shame!

_Cort_. In vain you turn aside,
And hide your face; your name you cannot hide:
I know my rival and his black design.

_Orb_. Forgive it, as my passion's fault, not mine.

_Cort_. In your excuse your love does little say;
You might, howe'er, have took a