His queen Amexia then was big with child;
Nor was he gentler than his queen was mild;
Th'impatient people longed for what should come
From such a father, bred in such a womb;
When false Traxalla, weary to obey,
Took with his life their joys and hopes away.
Amexia, by the assistance of the night,
When this dark deed was acted, took her flight;
Only with true Garucca for her aid:
Since when, for all the searches that were made,
The queen was never heard of more: Yet still
This traitor lives, and prospers by the ill:
Nor does my mother seem to reign alone,
But with this monster shares the guilt and throne.
Horror choaks up my words: now you'll believe,
'Tis just I should do nothing else but grieve.
_Mont_. Excellent prince!
How great a proof of virtue have you shown,
To be concerned for griefs, though not your own!
_Aca_. Pray, say no more.
_Enter a Messenger hastily_.
_Mont_. How now, whither so fast?
_Mess_. O sir, I come too slow with all my haste!
The fair Orazia--
_Mont_. Ha, what dost thou say?
_Mess_. Orazia with the Inca's forced away
Out of your tent; Traxalla, in the head
Of the rude soldiers, forced the door, and led,
Those glorious captives, who on thrones once shined,
To grace the triumph, that is now designed.
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