by John Dryden
The nation in your guilty passion lost;
To me ungrateful, to your country most:
But this shall be their offering, I their priest.
Zemp. The wounds, thou giv’st, I’ll copy on her breast:
Strike, and I’ll open here a spring of blood,
Shall add new rivers to the crimson flood.
How his pale looks are fixed on her!— ’tis so.
Oh, does amazement on your spirits grow?
What, is your public love Orazia’s grown?
Could’st thou see mine, and yet not hide thy own?
Suppose I should strike first, would it not breed
Grief in your public heart to see her bleed?
Trax. She mocks my passion; in her sparkling eyes
Death, and a close dissembled fury lies:
I dare not trust her thus. [Aside.] — If she must die,
The way to her loved life through mine shall lie.
[He puts her by, and steps before ORAZIA; and she runs before MONTEZUMA.
Zemp. And he, that does this stranger’s fate design, Must, to his heart, a passage force through mine.
Trax. Can fair Orazia yet no pity have? ’Tis just she should her own preserver save.
Zemp. Can Montezuma so ungrateful prove To her, that gave him life, and offers love?
Oraz. Can Montezuma live, and live to be
Just to another, and unjust to me?
You need not be ungrateful; can she give
A life to you, if you refuse to live? —
Forgive my passion; I had rather see
You dead, than kind to any thing but me.
Mont. O, my Orazia!
To what new joys and knowledge am I brought!
Are death’s hard lessons by a woman taught?
How to despise my fate I always knew;
But ne’er durst think, at once, of death and you:
Yet since you teach this generous jealousy,
I dare not wish your life, if I must die.
How much your love my courage does exceed!
Courage alone would shrink to see you bleed!
Zemp. Ungrateful stranger! thou shalt please thy eyes,
And gaze upon Orazia while she dies! —
I’ll keep my vow! — It is some joy to see,
That my revenge will prove my piety.
Trax. Then both shall die! — We have too long withstood, By private passions urged, the public good.
Zemp. Sure he dissembles; and, perhaps, may prove My ruin, with his new ambitious love: Were but this stranger kind, I’d cross his art, And give my empire, where I gave my heart. [Aside. Yet, thou ungrateful man, Let thy approaching ruin make thee wise.
Mont. Thee, and thy love, and mischief, I despise!
Zemp. What shall I do? Some way must yet be tried; — What reason can she use whom passions guide!
[Aside. Trax. Some black designs are hatching now: — False eyes Are quick to see another’s treacheries.
[Aside. Zemp. Rash stranger, thus to pull down thy own fate!
Mont. You, and that life you offer me, I hate.
Enter Jailor.
Zemp. Here, jailor, take — What title must he have? Slave, slave! — Am I then captive to a slave? — Why art thou thus unwilling to be free?
Mont. Death will release me from these chains, and thee.
Zemp. Here, jailor, take this monster from my sight,
And keep him where it may be always night.
Let none come near him; if thou dost, expect
To pay thy life, the price of the neglect.
Mont. I scorn thy pity, and thy cruelty; And should despise a blessing sent from thee.
Zemp. O, horror to my soul! take him away! —
My rage, like dammed-up streams, swelled by some stay,
Shall, from this opposition, get new force,
And leave the bound of its old easy course. —
Come, my Traxalla, let us both forgive,
And in these wretches’ fates begin to live.
The altars shall be crowned with funeral boughs,
Peace-offerings paid, — but with unquiet vows.
[Exeunt ZEMP. and TRAX.
Oraz. How are things ordered, that the wicked should
Appear more kind and gentle than the good?
Her passion seems to make her kinder prove,
And I seem cruel through excess of love:
She loves, and would prevent his death; but I,
That love him better, fear he should not die.
My jealousy, immortal as my love,
Would rob my grave below, and me above,
Of rest. — Ye gods, if I repine, forgive!
You neither let me die in peace, nor live.
Enter ACACIS, Jailor, and Indian.
Jail. They are just gone, sir.
Aca. ’Tis well: Be faithful to my just design, And all thy prince’s fortune shall be thine. [Exit ACACIS.
Ind. This shall to the empress. [Exit Indian.
Oraz. What can this mean! —
’Twas Prince Acacis, if I durst believe
My sight; but sorrow may like joy deceive:
Each object different from itself appears,
That comes not to the eyes, but through their tears.
Enter ACACIS, bringing in MONTEZUMA. Ha! —
Aca. Here, sir, wear this again; — [Gives a sword. Now follow me.
Mont. So, very good; — I dare not think, for I may guess amiss; None can deceive me while I trust in this. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter ORAZIA, conducted by two Indians with their swords drawn; MONTEZUMA, ACACIS whispering another Indian.
Aca. Think what a weight upon thy faith I lay.
Ind. I ne’er did more unwillingly obey.
Aca. First, Montezuma, take thy liberty;
Thou gavest me freedom, here I set thee free:
We’re equal now. Madam, the danger’s great
Of close pursuit; to favour your retreat,
Permit we two a little while remain
Behind, while you go softly o’er the plain.
Oraz. Why should I go before? — What’s your intent? — Where is my father? — Whither am I sent?
Aca. Your doubts shall soon be cleared. Conduct her on.
[Exit ORAZIA.
So, Montezuma, we are now alone.
That which my honour owed thee I have paid;
As honour was, so love must be obeyed.
I set Orazia, as thy captive, free;
But, as my mistress, ask her back from thee.
Mont. Thou hast performed what honour bid thee do: But friendship bars what honour prompts me to. — Friends should not fight.
Aca. If friendship we profess,
Let us secure each others happiness:
One needs must die, and he shall happy prove
In her remembrance, t’other in her love.
My guards wait near; and, if I fail, they must
Give up Orazia, or betray their trust.
Mont. Suppose thou conquer’st, would’st thou wander o’er
The south-sea sands, or the rough northern shore,
That parts thy spacious kingdom from Peru,
And, leaving empire, hopeless love pursue?
Aca. By which of all my actions could you guess,
Though more your merit, that my love was less?
What prize can empire with Orazia bear?
Or, where love fills the breast, what room for fear?
Mont. Let fair Orazia then the sentence give, Else he may die whom she desires to live.
Aca. Your greater merits bribe her to your side; My weaker title must by arms be tried.
Mont. Oh, tyrant love! how cruel are thy laws!
I forfeit friendship, or betray thy cause:
That person, whom I would defend from all
The world, that person by my hand must fall.
Aca. Our lives we to each others friendship owe;
> But love calls back what friendship did bestow:
Love has its cruelties, but friendship none;
And we now fight in quarrels not our own. [Fight.
Enter ORAZIA.
Oraz. What noise is this? — Hold, hold! what cause could be so great, to move This furious hatred? —
Mont. ’Twas our furious love. —
Aca. Love, which I hid till I had set you free,
And bought your pardon with my liberty;
That done, I thought, I less unjustly might
With Montezuma, for Orazia, fight;
He has prevailed, and I must now confess
His fortune greater, not my passion less;
Yet cannot yield you, till his sword remove
A dying rival, that holds fast his love.
Oraz. Whoever falls, ’tis my protector still,
And then the crime’s as great, to die as kill. —
Acacis, do not hopeless love pursue;
But live, and this soft malady subdue.
Aca. You bid me live, and yet command me die!
I am not worth your care; — Fly, madam, fly!
(While I fall here unpitied) o’er this plain,
Free from pursuit, the faithless mountains gain;
And these I charge,
As they would have me think their friendship true,
Leave me alone, to serve, and follow you:
Make haste, fair princess, to avoid that fate,
Which does for your unhappy father wait.
Oraz. Is he then left to die, and shall he see Himself forsaken, ere his death, by me?
Mont. That would you do?
Oraz. To prison I’ll return, And there, in fetters, with my father mourn.
Mont. That saves not his, but throws your life away.
Oraz. Duty shall give what nature once must pay.
Aca. Life is the gift, which heaven and parents give, And duty best preserves it, if you live.
Oraz. I should but further from my fountain fly, And, like an unfed stream, run on and die: Urge me no more, and do not grieve to see Your honour rivalled by my piety. [She goes softly of, and often looks back.
Mont. If honour would not, shame would lead the way; I’ll back with her.
Aca. Stay, Montezuma, stay! — Thy rival cannot let thee go alone, My love will bear me, though my blood is gone.
[As they are going off,
Enter ZEMPOALLA, TRAXALLA, the Indian that went to tell her, and the rest, and seize them.
Zemp. Seize them! —
Aca. Oh, Montezuma, thou art lost.
Mont. No more, proud heart, thy useless courage boast! — Courage, thou curse of the unfortunate! That canst encounter, not resist, ill fate.
Zemp. Acacis bleeds! — What barbarous hand has wounded thus my son?
Mont. ’Twas I; by my unhappy sword ’twas done. — Thou bleed’st, poor prince, and I am left to grieve My rival’s fall.
Trax. He bleeds, but yet may live.
Aca. Friendship and love my failing strength renew;
I dare not die, when I should live for you;
My death were now my crime, as it would be
My guilt to live when I have set you free:
Thus I must still remain unfortunate,
Your life and death are equally my fate.
ORAZIA comes back.
Oraz. A noise again! — alas, what do I see!
Love, thou didst once give place to piety:
Now, piety, let love triumph awhile; —
Here, bind my hands: Come, Montezuma, smile
At fortune; since thou sufferest for my sake,
Orazia will her captive’s chains partake.
Mont. Now, fate, thy worst.
Zemp. Lead to the temple straight, A priest and altar for these lovers wait: They shall be joined, they shall.
Trax. And I will prove Those joys in vengeance, which I want in love.
Aca. I’ll quench your thirst with blood, and will destroy
Myself, and, with myself, your cruel joy.
Now, Montezuma, since Orazia dies,
I’ll fall before thee, the first sacrifice;
My title in her death shall exceed thine,
As much as, in her life, thy hopes did mine:
And when with our mixed blood the altar’s dyed,
Then our new title let the gods decide.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Scene opens, and discovers the Temple of the Sun, all of gold, and four Priests, in habits of white and red feathers, attending by a bloody altar, as ready for sacrifice.
Then enter the Guards, ZEMPOALLA, and TRAXALLA; Inca, ORAZIA, and MONTEZUMA, bound. As soon as they are placed, the Priest sings.
SONG.
You to whom victory we owe,
Whose glories rise
By sacrifice,
And from our fates below;
Never did your altars shine
Feasted with blood so near divine;
Princes to whom we bow,
As they to you: —
Thus you can ravish from a throne,
And, by their loss of power, declare your own.
Zemp. Now to inflict those punishments, that are
Due to the authors of invasive war;
Who, to deceive the oppressed world, like you,
Invent false quarrels to conceal the true.
Inca. My quarrel was the same, that all the gods
Must have to thee, if there be any odds
Betwixt those titles that are bad or good,
To crowns descended, or usurped by blood: —
Swell not with this success; ’twas not to thee,
But to this man, the gods gave victory.
Mont. Since I must perish by my own success,
Think my misfortunes more, my crimes the less;
And so, forgiving, make me pleased to die,
Thus punished for this guilty victory.
Inca. Death can make virtue easy; I forgive:
That word would prove too hard, were I to live;
The honour of a prince would then deny,
But in the grave all our distinctions die.
Mont. Forgive me one thing yet; to say, I love,
Let it no more your scorn and anger move;
Since, dying in one flame, my ashes must
Embrace and mingle with Orazia’s dust.
Inca. Name thy bold love no more, lest that last breath, Which should forgive, I stifle with my death.
Oraz. Oh, my dear father! Oh, why may not I, Since you gave life to me, for you now die?
Mont. ’Tis I, that wrought this mischief, ought to fall
A just and willing sacrifice for all.
Now, Zempoalla, be both just and kind,
And, in my fate, let me thy mercy find:
Be grateful, then, and grant me that esteem,
That as alive, so dead, I may redeem.
Oraz. O, do not for her cruel mercy move; None should ask pity but from those they love.
[Weeps.
Inca. Fond girl! to let thy disobedient eyes Show a concern for him, whom I despise.
Oraz. How love and nature may divide a breast,
At once by both their powers severely prest!
Yet, sir, since love seems less, you may forgive;
I would not have you die, nor have him live;
Yet if he dies, alas! what shall I do?
I cannot die with him, and live with you.
Mont. How vainly we pursue this generous strife,
Parting in death more cruel than in life! —
Weep not, we both shall have one destiny;
As in one flame we lived, in one we’ll die.
Trax. Why do we waste in vain these precious hours?
Each minute of his life may hazard ours:
The nation does not live whilst he enjoys
His life, it is his safety that destroys.
He shall fall fir
st, and teach the rest to die.
Zemp. Hold! —
Who is it that commands; — ha! you, or I? —
Your zeal grows saucy! — sure, you may allow
Your empress freedom first to pay her vow.
Trax. She may allow — a justice to be done By him, that raised his empress to her throne.
Zemp. You are too bold, —
Trax. And you too passionate.
Zemp. Take heed, with his, you urge not your own fate. — For all this pity is now due to me.
Mont. I hate thy offered mercy more than thee.
Trax. Why will not then the fair Orazia give Life to herself, and let Traxalla live?
Mont. Orazia will not live, and let me die; She taught me first this cruel jealousy.
Oraz. I joy that you have learned it! — That flame not like immortal love appears. Where death can cool its warmth, or kill its fears.
Zemp. What shall I do? am I so quite forlorn,
No help from my own pride, nor from his scorn!
My rival’s death may more effectual prove;
He, that is robbed of hope, may cease to love: —
Here, lead these offerings to their deaths.
Trax. Let none Obey but he, that will pull on his own!
Zemp. Tempt me not thus; false and ungrateful too!
Trax. Just as ungrateful, and as false, as you.
Zemp. ’Tis thy false love that fears her destiny.
Trax. And your false love that fears to have him die.
Zemp. Seize the bold traitor!
Trax. What a slighted frown Troubles your brow! feared nor obeyed by none; Come, prepare for sacrifice.
Enter ACACIS weakly.
Aca. Hold, hold! such sacrifices cannot be
Devotions, but a solemn cruelty:
How can the gods delight in human blood?
Think them not cruel, if you think them good.
In vain we ask that mercy, which they want,
And hope that pity, which they hate to grant.
Zemp. Retire, Acacis; — Preserve thyself, for ’tis in vain to waste Thy breath for them: The fatal vow is past.
Aca. To break that vow is juster than commit A greater crime, by your preserving it.
Zemp. The gods themselves their own will best express To like the vow, by giving the success.
Aca. If all things by success are understood,
Men, that make war, grow wicked to be good:
But did you vow, those that were overcome,
And he that conquered, both, should share one doom?
There’s no excuse; for one of these must be
Not your devotion, but your cruelty.
Trax. To that rash stranger, sir, we nothing owe;
What he had raised, he strove to overthrow:
That duty lost, which should our actions guide,
