_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.