_Orb_. Alas, what shall I say?-- [_Aside_. A poor Taxallan that mistook his way, And wanders in the terrors of the night. _Cort_. Soldier, thou seem'st afraid; whence comes thy fright? _Orb_. The insolence of Spaniards caused my fear, Who in the dark pursued me entering here. _Cort_. Their crimes shall meet immediate punishment, But stay thou safe within the general's tent. _Orb_. Still worse and worse. _Cort_. Fear not, but follow me; Upon my life I'll set thee safe and free. [CORTEZ _leads him in, and returns. To him_ VASQUEZ, PIZARRO, _and Spaniards with Torches_. _Vasq_. O sir, thank heaven, and your brave Indian friend, That you are safe; Orbellan did intend This night to kill you sleeping in your tent: But Guyomar his trusty slave has sent, Who, following close his silent steps by night, Till in our camp they both approached the light, Cried-_Seize the traitor, seize the murtherer_! The cruel villain fled I know not where; But far he is not, for he this way bent. _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. SCENE III. _They go out, the Scene changes to the Indian Country, they return_. _Cort_. Now you are safe, you have my outguards past. _Orb_. Then here I take my leave. _Cort_. Orbellan, no; When you return, you to Cydaria go: I'll send a message. _Orb_. Let it be exprest; I am in haste. _Cort_. I'll write it in your breast. [_Draws_. _Orb_. What means my rival?