The Indian Emperor/Act III/Scene II

SCENE II.—A camp.

Enter alone, in a night-gown.

Cort. All things are hushed, as nature's self lay dead; The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head; The little birds in dreams their songs repeat, And sleeping flowers beneath the night-dew sweat, Even lust and envy sleep; yet love denies Rest to my soul, and slumber to my eyes. Three days I promised to attend my doom, And two long days and nights are yet to come:— 'Tis sure the noise of some tumultuous fight, [Noise within. They break the truce and sally out by night.

Enter flying in the dark, his sword drawn.

Orb. Betrayed! pursued! O, whither shall I fly? See, see! the just reward of treachery!— I'm sure among the tents, but know not where; Even night wants darkness to secure my fear. [Comes near who hears him.

Cort. Stand! who goes there?

Orb. Alas, what shall I say?— [Aside. A poor Traxallan that mistook his way, And wanders in the terrors of the night

Cort. Soldier, thou seem'st afraid; whence comes thy flight?

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. [ leads him in and returns.

To him 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 murderer ? 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 and

at his tent door.

Indian, come forth ; your enemies are gone, And I, who saved you from them, here alone.

Enter 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 shroud 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.