_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 fairer way.
_Orb_. 'Tis true, my passion small defence can make;
Yet you must spare me for your honour's sake,
That was engaged to set me safe and free.
_Cort_. 'Twas to a stranger, not an enemy:
Nor is it prudence to prolong thy breath,
When all my hopes depend upon thy death;
Yet none shall tax me with base perjury:
Something I'll do, both for myself and thee;
With vowed revenge my soldiers search each tent,
If thou art seen, none can thy death prevent;
Follow my steps with silence and with haste.
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