_High-Priest._ Then surely that cannot be just. God created man weak and liable to err, a truth on which your conviction should be founded. This earth is imperfect, so is every thing that lives and moves in it, and will not that God who suffers the tyger to mangle the harmless lamb, look down with forbearance on frail man when he listens to the voice of nature. _Xaira._ But we men slay the tyger, and we do right,—we punish the faults of man, and we do right. _High-Priest._ Yes, if by his weakness he produce disorder in the state. _Xaira._ And is not that the case in the affair before us? _High-Priest._ No! _Xaira._ No? _High-Priest._ Your own designs have been solely to avenge the gods. _Xaira._ And would you then sanction the licentious conduct that must inevitably ensue, should indulgence be shewn in the present instance? _High-Priest._ At the source of a clear stream, we do not think of the mud by which it may be contaminated in its course. I entreat you, let us be true to our vocation, let us resemble the god whom we serve, whose rays diffuse light and heat over all! let us acquit Cora!—It will then lie in the king’s bosom to act as he shall judge right, either by confirming, or reversing, our sentence; and should it be reversed, we shall, at least, have done our duty, in shewing a disposition to clemency, while the hapless victim will breathe her last sighs in gratitude for our intended mercy. _Xaira._ What would you require of me?—You speak as if the decision of this point rested upon me alone. Are not you High-Priest?—do not the duties of your office demand that you lay the case before the whole assembly of the Priests, in which I have but a single voice. _High-Priest._ You know well, that in representing this affair to the assembly, I am forbidden by our laws to employ any persuasions of eloquence,—what I am to say, must be expressed in the fewest and the simplest words, and I am therefore precluded from the power of influencing the auditors. You, it is true, have only one voice, but you are the oldest of the order, next to me, and successor to the high-priesthood at my death. To you therefore all the young Priests look up, and will incline which way soever they shall see you inclined. _Xaira._ This case may be rightly stated as to what concerns yourself, but it is otherwise with the Inca who has always power to grant a pardon. _High-Priest._ But when has this power been exercised?—Has not every Inca, from father to son, for centuries past, uniformly confirmed the sentence of the Priests?—will Ataliba, think you, venture to deviate from the practice of his ancestors? _Xaira._ No more!—It is equally inconsistent with your duty to endeavour to extort from me the sentence I shall pronounce, as with mine to listen to such entreaties. (_Turns away from him_) _High-Priest._ Well then, their blood be upon thee! _Xaira._ (_Coldly._) Yes, their blood be upon me!