brethren, rise.

_Guy_. Spaniard, take breath: Some respite I'll afford,
My cause is more advantage than your sword.

_Vasq_. Thou art so brave--could it with honour be,
I'd seek thy friendship more than victory.

_Guy_. Friendship with him, whose hand did Odmar kill!
Base as he was, he was my brother still:
And since his blood has washed away his guilt.
Nature asks thine for that which thou hast spilt.
[_They fight a little and breathe_, ALIBECH _takes
up a sword and comes on_.

_Alib_. My weakness may help something in the strife.

_Guy_. Kill not my honour to preserve my life:
[_Staying her_.
Rather than by thy aid I'll conquest gain,
Without defence I poorly will be slain.

[_She goes back, they fight again_, VASQUEZ _falls_.

_Guy_. Now, Spaniard, beg thy life, and thou shalt live.

_Vasq_. 'Twere vain to ask thee what thou canst not give;
My breath goes out, and I am now no more;
Yet her, I loved, in death I will adore. [_Dies_.

_Guy_. Come, Alibech, let us from hence remove.
This is a night of horror, not of love.
From every part I hear a dreadful noise,
The vanquished crying, and the victor's joys.
I'll to my father's aid and country's fly,
And succour both, or in their ruin die. [_Exeunt_.

SCENE II.--_A Prison_.

MONTEZUMA, _Indian High Priest, bound_; PIZARRO, _Spaniards
with swords drawn, a Christian Priest_.

_Piz_. Thou hast not yet discovered all thy store.

_Mont_. I neither can nor will discover more;
The gods will punish you, if they be just;
The gods will plague your sacrilegious lust.

_Chr. Priest_. Mark how this impious heathen justifies
His own false gods, and our true God denies:
How wickedly he has refused his wealth,
And hid his gold, from christian hands, by stealth:
Down with him, kill him, merit heaven thereby.

_Ind. High Pr_. Can heaven be author of such cruelty?

_Piz_. Since neither threats nor kindness will prevail,
We must by other means your minds assail;
Fasten the engines; stretch 'em at their length,
And pull the straitened cords with all your strength.
[_They fasten them to the rack, and then pull them_.

_Mont_. The gods, who made me once a king, shall know,
I still am worthy to continue so:
Though now the subject of your tyranny,
I'll plague you worse than you can punish me.
Know, I have gold, which you shall never find;
No pains, no tortures, shall unlock my mind.

_Chr. Pr_. Pull harder yet; he does not feel the rack.

_Mont_. Pull 'till m