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Old Prophecies foretell our Fall at hand, When bearded Men in floating Castles land. I fear it is dire Portent.

Your eyes can scarce so far a Prospect make; As to discern the City on the Lake

Mont. kneels to Cort. Mont. Patron of Mexico and God of Wars, Son of the Sun, and Brother of the Stars-

You Choler, General, does unjustly rise, To see your Friends pursue your Enemies; The greatest and most cruel Foes we have Are these, whom you would ignorantly save. By ambush’d Men, behind their Temple laid, We have the King of Mexico betray’d.

Nor are they Foes my Clemency defends, Until they hace refus’d the Name of Friends: Draw up our Spaniards by themselves, then fire Our Guns on all who do not straight retire.

A Chamber-Royal, and Indian Hammock discover’d in it.

Pis. Our Men, tho’ valiant, we should find too few. But Indians join the Indians to subdue; Taxallan, shook by Montezuma’s Powers, Has resist his Forces call’d our own.

Some petty Prince, and one of little Fame, For to this Hour I never heard his Name. The two great Empires of the World I know, that of Peru m and this of Mexico

Monarch of Empires , and hither led by Fame, Not by Constraint but by my Choice I came: Ambassador of Peace, if Peace you choose Or Herald of a War, ir you refuse.

What divine Monsters , O ye Gods, were these That float in Air, and fly upon the Seas!

Cort. Heav’n from all Ages wifely did provide This Wealth, for the bravest Nation hide, Who with four hundred Foot and Forty Horse, Dare boldly go to a new found World force.

Our Foes with Lightning and with Thunder fight, My men in vain shun Death by shameful Flight; For Deaths invisible come wing’d with Fire, They hear a dreadful Noise, and straight expire.

The incense is upon the Altar plac’d, The bloody Sacrifice already past. Five hundred Captives saw the rising Sun, Who lost their Light ere half his Race had run. That which remains we must celebrate; Where far from Noise, without the City Gate,…

The Sun, my Father, bears my Soul on high: He lets me down a Beam, and mounted there He draws back, and pulls me through the Air: I in the Eastern Parts, and rising Sky, You in Heav’ns Downfall, and the West must lie.

A Nation loving Gold must rule this Place, Our Temples ruin, and or Rites deface: To them, O King, is thy lost Sceptre giv’en

Vazq: Methinks we walk in Dreams of Fairy Land , Where golden Ore lies mixt with common Sand; each Downfal of a Flood of Mountains pour From their rich Bowels, rolls a Silver Shower.

Pis. Our Men, tho’ valiant, we should find too few. But Indians join the Indians to subdue; Taxallan shook by Montezuma’s Power, Has, to resist his Forces, call’d our own.

Enter Cortez, Vasquez, Pizarro, to the Taxallan: Cortez flays them, just falling on.

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Who with your Life, your Freedom would restore, and add to that the Crown of Mexico
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