The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 02Dryden, John
General
The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 02
Dryden, John
English literature
To that excess of courage shown in you.--
When you, without demand, a prince bestow,
Less than a prince to ask of you were low.
_Inca_. Then ask a kingdom; say, where thou wilt
reign.
_Mont_. I beg not empires, those my sword can gain;
But, for my past and future service too,
What I have done, and what I mean to do;
For this of Mexico which I have won,
And kingdoms I will conquer yet unknown;
I only ask from fair Orazia's eyes
To reap the fruits of all my victories.
_1 Peru_. Our Inca's colour mounts into his face.
_2 Peru_. His looks speak death.
_Inca_. Young man of unknown race,
Ask once again; so well thy merits plead,
Thou shall not die for that which thou hast said;
The price of what thou ask'st, thou dost not know;
That gift's too high.
_Mont_. And all besides too low.
_Inca_. Once more I bid thee ask.
_Mont_. Once more I make
The same demand.
_Inca_. The Inca bids thee take
Thy choice, what towns, what kingdoms thou would'st have.
_Mont_. Thou giv'st me only what before I gave.
Give me thy daughter.
_Inca_. Thou deserv'st to die.
O thou great author of our progeny,
Thou glorious sun, dost thou not blush to shine,
While such base blood attempts to mix with thine!
_Mont_. That sun, thou speak'st of, did not hide his face,
When he beheld me conquering with his race.
_Inca_. My fortunes gave thee thy success in fight!
Convey thy boasted valour from my sight;
I can o'ercome without thy feeble aid.
[_Exeunt Inca_, ORAZIA, _and Peruvians_.
_Mont_. And is it thus my services are paid?
Not all his guards--
[_Offers to go,_ ACACIS _holds him_.
_Aca_. Hold, sir.
_Mont_. Unhand me.
_Aca_. No, I must your rage prevent
From doing what your reason would repent;
Like the vast seas, your mind no limits knows,
Like them, lies open to each wind that blows.
_Mont_. Can a revenge, that is so just, be ill?
_Aca_. It is Orazia's father, you would kill.
_Mont_. Orazia! how that name has charmed my sword!
_Aca_. Compose these wild distempers in your breast;
Anger, like madness, is appeased by rest.
_Mont_. Bid children sleep, my spirits boil too high;
But, since Orazia's father must not die,
A nobler vengeance shall my actions guide;
I'll bear the conquest to the conquered side,
Until this Inca for my friendship sues,
And proffers what his pride does now refuse.
_Aca_. Your honour is obliged to keep your trust.
_Mont_. He broke that bond, in ceasing to be just.
_Aca_. Subjects to kings should more obedience pay.
_Mont_. Subjects are bound, not strangers, to obey.
_Aca_. Can you so little your Orazia prize,
To give the conquest to her enemies?
Can you so easily forego her sight?
I, that hold liberty more dear than light,
Yet to my freedom should my chains prefer,
And think it were well lost to stay with her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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