_Cyd_. I must he in the battle, but I'll go
With empty quiver, and unbended bow;
Not draw an arrow in this fatal strife,
For fear its point should reach your noble life.
_Enter_ PIZARRO.
_Cort_. No more: your kindness wounds me to the death:
Honour, be gone! what art thou but a breath?
I'll live, proud of my infamy and shame,
Graced with no triumph but a lover's name;
Men can but say, love did his reason blind,
And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.--
Draw off my men; the war's already done.
_Piz_. Your orders come too late, the fight's begun;
The enemy gives on, with fury led,
And fierce Orbellan combats at their head.
_Cort_. He justly fears, a peace with me would
prove
Of ill concernment to his haughty love;
Retire, fair excellence! I go to meet
New honour, but to lay it at your feet.
[_Exeunt_ CORTEZ, VASQUEZ, _and_ PIZARRO.]
_Enter_ ODMAR _and_ GUTOMAR, _to_ ALIBECH _and_
CYDARIA.
_Odm_. Now, madam, since a danger does appear
Worthy my courage, though below my fear;
Give leave to him, who may in battle die,
Before his death, to ask his destiny.
_Guy_. He cannot die, whom you command to live;
Before the fight, you can the conquest give;
Speak, where you'll place it?
_Alib_. Briefly, then, to both,
One I in secret love, the other loathe;
But where I hate, my hate I will not show,
And he, I love, my love shall never know;
True worth shall gain me, that it may be said,
Desert, not fancy, once a woman led.
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