_Mont_. In seeking happiness you both agree, But in the search, the paths so different be, That all religions with each other fight, While only one can lead us in the right. But till that one hath some more certain mark, Poor human kind must wander in the dark; And suffer pain eternally below, For that, which here we cannot come to know. _Chr. Pr_. That, which we worship, and which you believe, From nature's common hand we both receive: All, under various names, adore and love One Power immense, which ever rules above. Vice to abhor, and virtue to pursue, Is both believed and taught by us and you: But here our worship takes another way-- _Mont_. Where both agree, 'tis there most safe to stay: For what's more vain than public light to shun, And set up tapers, while we see the sun? _Chr. Pr_. Though nature teaches whom we should adore, By heavenly beams we still discover more. _Mont_. Or this must be enough, or to mankind One equal way to bliss is not designed; For though some more may know, and some know less, Yet all must know enough for happiness. _Chr. Pr_. If in this middle way you still pretend To stay, your journey never will have end. _Mont_. Howe'er, 'tis better in the midst to stay, Than wander farther in uncertain way. _Chr. Pr_. But we by martyrdom our faith avow. _Mont_. You do no more than I for ours do now. To prove religion true-- If either wit or sufferings would suffice, All faiths afford the constant and the wise: And yet even they, by education swayed, In age defend what infancy obeyed. _Chr. Pr_. Since age by erring childhood is misled, Refer yourself to our unerring head. _Mont_. Man, and not err! what reason can you give? _Chr. Pr_. Renounce that carnal reason, and believe. _Mont_. The light of nature should I thus betray, 'Twere to wink hard, that I might see the day. _Chr. Pr_. Condemn not yet the way you do not know; I'll make your reason judge what way to go. _Mont_. 'Tis much too late for me new ways to take, Who have but one short step of life to make. _Piz_. Increase their pains, the cords are yet too slack. _Chr. Pr_. I must by force convert him on the rack. _Ind. High Pr_. I faint away, and find I can no more: Give leave, O king, I may reveal thy store, And free myself from pains, I cannot bear. _Mont_. Think'st thou I lie on beds of roses here, Or in a wanton bath stretched at my ease? Die, slave, and with thee die such thoughts as these. [_High Priest turns aside, and dies_. _Enter_ CORTEZ _attended by Spaniards, he speaks entering_.