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A SELECT COLLECTION
OF
OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY
IN THE YEAR 1744.

FOURTH EDITION,

NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED
WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS,
AND NEW NOTES

BY

W. CAREW HAZLITT.

BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.

New York

First published 1874-1876
Reissued 1964 by Benjamin Blom, Inc.
L.C. Catalog Card No.: 64-14702

Printed in U.S.A. by
NOBLE OFFSET PRINTERS, INC. NEW YORK 3, N. Y.

CONTENTS

 

Page

THE REBELLION

1

ACT I

-

ACT II

-

ACT III

-

ACT IV

-

ACT V LUST'S DOMINION or THE LASCIVIOUS QUEEN

93

ACT I

-

ACT II

-

ACT III

-

ACT IV

-

ACT V ANDROMANA or THE MERCHANT'S WIFE

193

ACT I

-

ACT II

-

ACT III

-

ACT IV

-

ACT V LADY ALIMONY

273

ACT I

-

ACT II

-

ACT III

-

ACT IV

-

ACT V THE PARSON'S WEDDING

369

ACT I

-

ACT II

-

ACT III

-

ACT IV

-

ACT V

THE REBELLION.

EDITION.

The Rebellion; a Tragedy: As it was acted nine dayes together, and divers times since, with good applause, by his Majesties Company of Revells. Written by Thomas Rawlins. London: Printed by I. Okes, for Daniell Frere, and are to be sold at the Signe of the Red Bull in Little Brittaine. 1640, 4^o.[1]

INTRODUCTION.

Thomas Rawlins, author of "The Rebellion," was a medallist by profession, and afterwards became an engraver of the Mint, a vocation which, in his preface, he prefers to the threadbare occupation of a poet. [He also employed his talents occasionally in engraving frontispieces and portraits for books, of which several signed specimens are known.[2] It is said that he died in 1670.] It is an argument, as well of his personal respectability, as of his easy circumstances, that no fewer than eleven copies of prefatory verses, by the wits of the time, are prefixed to the old edition. Notwithstanding the popularity of the piece, [which, as it appears from the introductory poems, was composed by Rawlins in early life,] and several passages of real merit, it was [only once] republished, perhaps because rebellion soon assumed the whole kingdom for its stage.

[Besides his play, Rawlins published in 1648 an octavo volume of poems, written also in his youth, under the title of "Calanthe."[3]]

TO THE WORSHIPFUL, AND HIS HONOURED KINSMAN,

ROBERT DUCIE,[4]

OF ASTON, IN THE COUNTY OF STAFFORD,
ESQUIRE;

SON TO SIR R. DUCIE, KNIGHT AND BARONET, DECEASED.

Sir,—Not to boast of any perfections, I have never yet been owner of ingratitude, and would be loth envy should tax me now, having at this time opportunity to pay part of that debt I owe your love. This tragedy had at the presentment a general applause; yet I have not that want of modesty as to conclude it wholly worthy your patronage, although I have been bold to fix your name unto it. Yet, however, your charity will be famous in protecting this plant from the breath of Zoilus, and forgiving this my confidence, and your acceptance cherish a study of a more deserving piece, to quit the remainder of the engagement. In

Your kinsman, ready to serve you,
THOMAS RAWLINS.

TO THE READER.

Reader, if courteous, I have not so little faith as to fear thy censure, since thou knowest youth hath many faults, whereon I depend, although my ignorance of the stage is also a sufficient excuse. If I have committed any, let thy candour judge mildly of them; and think not those voluntary favours of my friends (by whose compulsive persuasions I have published this) are commendations of my seeking, or through a desire in me to increase the volume, but rather a care that you (since that I have been over-entreated to present it to you) might find therein something worth your time. Take no notice of my name, for a second work of this nature shall hardly bear it. I have no desire to be known by a threadbare cloak, having a calling that will maintain it woolly. Farewell.

TO HIS LOVING FRIEND THE AUTHOR,

UPON HIS TRAGEDY "THE REBELLION."

To praise thee, friend, and show the reason why, Issues from honest love, not flattery. My will is not to flatter, nor for spite To praise or dispraise, but to do thee right Proud daring rebels in their impious way Of Machiavellian darkness this thy play Exactly shows; speaks thee truth's satirist, Rebellion's foe, time's honest artist. Thy continu'd scenes, parts, plots, and language can Distinguish (worthily) the virtuous man From the vicious villain, earth's fatal ill, Intending mischievous traitor Machiavel. Him and his treach'rous 'complices, that strove (Like the gigantic rebels war 'gainst Jove) To disenthrone Spain's king (the Heaven's anointed), By stern death all were justly disappointed. Plots meet with counterplots, revenge and blood: Rebels' ruin makes thy tragedy good.

Nath. Richards. [5]

TO HIS WORTHY ESTEEMED MASTER,

THOMAS RAWLINS, ON HIS "REBELLION."

I may not wonder, for the world does know, What poets can, and ofttimes reach unto. They oft work miracles: no marvel, then, Thou mak'st thy tailor here a nobleman: Would all the trade were honest too; but he Hath learn'd the utmost of the mystery, Filching with cunning industry the heart Of such a beauty, which did prove the smart Of many worthy lovers, and doth gain That prize which others labour'd for in vain. Thou mak'st him valiant too, and such a spirit, As every noble mind approves his merit. But what renown th' hast given his worth, 'tis fit The world should render to thy hopeful wit, And with a welcome plaudit entertain This lovely issue of thy teeming brain. That their kind usage to this birth of thine May win so much upon thee, for each line Thou hast bequeath'd the world, thou'lt give her ten, And raise more high the glory of thy pen. Accomplish these our wishes, and then see How all that love the arts will honour thee.

C. G.[6]

TO MY FRIEND MASTER RAWLINS,

UPON THIS PLAY, HIS WORK.

Friend, in the fair completeness of your play Y' have courted truth; in these few lines to say Something concerning it, that all may know I pay no more of praise than what I owe. 'Tis good, and merit much more fair appears Appareled in plain praise, than when it wears A complimental gloss. Tailors may boast Th' have gain'd by your young pen what they long lost By the old proverb, which says, Three to a man: But to your vindicating muse, that can Make one a man, and a man noble, they Must wreaths of bays as their due praises pay.

Robert Davenport.[7]

TO THE AUTHOR, ON HIS "REBELLION."

Thy play I ne'er saw: what shall I say then? I in my vote must do as other men, And praise those things to all, which common fame Does boast of such a hopeful growing flame Which, in despite of flattery, shall shine, Till envy at thy glory do repine: And on Parnassus' cliffy top shall stand, Directing wand'ring wits to wish'd-for land; Like a beacon o' th' Muses' hill remain, That still doth burn, no lesser light retain; To show that other wits, compar'd with thee, Is but Rebellion i' th' high'st degree. For from thy labours (thus much I do scan) A tailor is ennobled to a man.

R. W.[8]

TO HIS DEAR FRIEND, MR. THOMAS RAWLINS.

To see a springot of thy tender age With such a lofty strain to word a stage; To see a tragedy from thee in print, With such a world of fine meanders in't, Puzzles my wond'ring soul; for there appears Such disproportion 'twixt thy lines and years, That when I read thy lines, methinks I see The sweet-tongued Ovid fall upon his knee, With (parce precor) every line and word Runs in sweet numbers of its own accord: But I am wonder-struck that all this while Thy unfeather'd quill should write a tragic style. This above all my admiration draws, That one so young should know dramatic laws. 'Tis rare, and therefore is not for the span Or greasy thumbs of every common man. The damask rose, that sprouts before the spring, Is fit for none to smell at but a king. Go on, sweet friend; I hope in time to see Thy temples rounded with the Daphnean tree. And if men ask who nurs'd thee, I'll say thus, It was the ambrosian spring of Pegasus.

Robert Chamberlain.[9]

TO HIS FRIEND, MASTER THOMAS RAWLINS,

ON HIS PLAY CALLED "THE REBELLION."

I will not praise thee, friend, nor is it fit, Lest I be said to flatter what y' have writ: For some will say I writ to applaud thee, That when I print, thou may'st do so for me. Faith, they're deceiv'd, thou justly claim'st thy bays: Virtue rewards herself; thy work's thy praise.

T. Jourdan.[10]

TO THE AUTHOR, MASTER THOMAS RAWLINS.

Kind friend, excuse me, that do thus intrude, Thronging thy volume with my lines so rude. Applause is needless here, yet this I owe, As due to th' Muses; thine ne'er su'd (I know) For hands, nor voice, nor pen, nor other praise Whatsoe'er by mortals us'd, thereby to raise An author's name eternally to bliss. Were't rightly scann'd (alas!) what folly 'tis! As if a poet's single work alone Wants power to lift him to the spangled throne Of highest Jove; or needs their lukewarm fires, To cut his way or pierce the circled spheres. Foolish presumption! whosoe'er thou art, Thus fondly deem'st of poet's princely art, Here needs no paltry petty pioneer's skill To fortify; nay, thy mellifluous quill Strikes Momus with amaze and silence deep, And doom'd poor Zoilus to the Lethean sleep. Then ben't dismay'd, I know thy book will live, And deathless trophies to thy name shall give. Who doubts, where Venus and Minerva meet In every line, how pleasantly they greet? Strewing thy paths with roses, red and white, To deck thy silver-streams of fluent wit; And entertain the graces of thy mind. O, may thy early head sweet shelter find Under the umbrage of those verdant bays, Ordain'd for sacred poesy's sweet lays! Such are thy lines, in such a curious dress, Compos'd so quaintly, that, if I may guess, None save thine own should dare t' approach the press.

I. Gough.[11]

TO THE INGENIOUS AUTHOR.

A sour and austere kind of men there be, That would outlaw the laws of poesy; And from a commonwealth's well-govern'd lists Some grave and too much severe Platonists Would exclude poets, and have enmity With the soul's freedom, ingenuity. These are so much for wisdom, they forget That Heaven allow'th the use of modest wit. These think the author of a jest alone Is the man that deserves damnation; Holding mirth vicious, and to laugh a sin: Yet we must give these cynics leave to grin. What will they think, when they shall see thee in The plains of fair Elysium? sit among A crowned troop of poets, and a throng Of ancient bards, which soul-delighting choir Sings daily anthems to Apollo's lyre? Amongst which thou shalt sit, and crowned thus, Shalt laugh at Cato and Democritus. Thus shall thy bays be superscrib'd: my pen Did not alone make plays, but also men.

E. B.[12]

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.

Bless me, you sacred Sisters! What a throng Of choice encomiums 's press'd? such as was sung When the sweet singer Stesichorus liv'd; Upon whose lips the nightingale surviv'd. What makes my sickly fancy hither hie (Unless it be for shelter), when the eye Of each peculiar artist makes a quest After my slender judgment? then a jest Dissolves my thoughts to nothing, and my pains Has its reward in adding to my stains. But as the river of Athamas can fire The sullen wood, and make its flames aspire, So the infused comfort I receive By th' tie of friendship, prompts me to relieve My fainting spirits, and with a full sail Rush 'mongst your argosies; despite of hail Or storms of critics, friend, to thee I come: I know th' hast harbour, I defy much room: Besides, I'll pay thee for't in grateful verse, Since that thou art wit's abstract, I'll rehearse: Nothing shall wool your ears with a long phrase Of a sententious folly; for to raise Sad pyramids of flattery, that may be Condemn'd for the sincere prolixity. Let envy turn her mantle, and expose Her rotten entrails to infect the rose, Or pine—like greenness of thy extant wit: Yet shall thy Homer's shield demolish it. Upon thy quill as on an eagle's wing, Thou shalt be led through th' air's sweet whispering: And with thy pen thou shalt engrave thy name (Better than pencil) in the list of fame.

I. Tatham.[13]

ON MASTER RAWLINS AND HIS TAILOR,
IN "THE REBELLION."

In what a strange dilemma stood my mind, When first I saw the tailor, and did find It so well-fraught with wit! but when I knew The noble tailor to proceed from you, I stood amaz'd, as one with thunder struck, And knew not which to read; you or your book. I wonder how you could, being of our race, So eagle-like look Phœbus in the face. I wonder how you could, being so young, And teeming yet, encounter with so strong And firm a story; 'twould indeed have prov'd A subject for the wisest, that had lov'd To suck at Aganippe. But go on, My best of friends; and as you have begun With that is good, so let your after-times Transcendent be. Apollo he still shines On the best wits; and if a Momus chance On this thy volume scornfully to glance, Melpomene will defend, and you shall see, That virtue will at length make envy flee.

I. Knight.[14]

TO HIS INGENIOUS FRIEND, MASTER RAWLINS,

THE AUTHOR OF "THE REBELLION."

What need I strive to praise thy worthy frame, Or raise a trophy to thy lasting name? Were my bad wit with eloquence refin'd, When I have said my most, the most's behind. But that I might be known for one of them, Which do admire thy wit and love thy pen, I could not better show forth my good-will, Than to salute you with my virgin quill, And bring you something to adorn your head Among a throng of friends, who oft have read Your learned poems, and do honour thee And thy bright genius. How like a curious tree Is thy sweet fancy, bearing fruit so rare The learned still will covet. Momus no share Shall have of it; but end his wretched days In grief, 'cause now he seeth th' art crown'd with bays.

Jo. Meriell.[15]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

A Cupid.

King of Spain.

Antonio, a count.

Machiavel, a count.

Alerzo,
Fulgentio,
Pandolpho,

}

three Spanish colonels.

Petruchio, Governor of Filford.

Raymond (a Moor), General of the French army.

Leonis,
Gilberti,
Firenzo,

}

three French colonels.

Sebastiano, Petruchio's son, in the disguise of a tailor called Giovanno.

Old Tailor.

Vermin, his man.

Three Tailors more.

Captain of the Banditti.

Two Ruffians and a Bravo.

Philippa, the Moor's wife.

Auristella, Machiavel's wife.

Evadne, Antonio's sister.

Aurelia, Sebastiano's sister.

Nurse, attendant on Evadne.

Attendants.

Scene—Seville.

THE REBELLION.

ACT I., SCENE 1.

Enter severally, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho.

Aler. Colonel?

Ful. Signor Alerzo?

Aler. Here.

Pan. Signors, well-met: The lazy morn has scarcely trimm'd herself To entertain the sun; she still retains The slimy tincture of the banish'd night: I hardly could discern you.

Aler. But you appear fresh as a city bridegroom, That has sign'd his wife a warrant for the Grafting of horns; how fares Belinda After the weight of so much sin? you lay with her To-night; come, speak, did you take up on trust, Or have you pawn'd a colony of oaths? Or an embroidered belt? or have you ta'en The courtier's trick, to lay your sword at mortgage? Or perhaps a feather? 'twill serve in traffic, To return her ladyship a fan, or so.

Pan. Y' are merry.

Ful. Come, be free, Leave modesty for women to gild Their pretty thriving art of plentitude, To enrich their husbands' brows with cornucopias. A soldier, and thus bashful! Pox! be open.

Pan. Had I the pox, good colonel, I should stride Far opener than I do; but pox o' the fashion!

Aler. Count Antonio.

[To them enter Antonio.

Ful. Though he appear fresh as a bloom That newly kiss'd the sun, adorn'd with pearly Drops, flung from the hand of the rose-finger'd morn, Yet in his heart lives a whole host of valour.

Pan. He appears A second Mars.

Aler. More powerful, since he holds wisdom And valour captive.

Ful. Let us salute him.

[Whilst they salute Antonio, enters Count Machiavel.

Mach. Ha! how close they strike, as if they heard A winged thunderbolt [that] threaten'd his death, And each ambitious were to lose his life; So it might purchase him a longer being: Their breath engenders like two peaceful winds, That join a friendly league, and fill the air With silken music; I may pass by, and scarce be spar'd a look, Or any else but young Antonio. Rise from thy scorching den, thou soul of mischief! My blood boils hotter than the poison'd flesh Of Hercules cloth'd in the Centaur's shirt: Swell me, revenge, till I become a hill, High as Olympus' cloud-dividing top; That I might fall, and crush them into air. I'll observe.

[Exit behind the hangings.

Ant. Command, I prythee, all[16] This little world I'm master of contains, And be assur'd 'tis granted; I have a life, I owe to death; and in my country's cause I should——

Ful. Good sir, no more, This ungrateful land owes you too much already.

Aler. And you still bind it in stronger bonds.

Pan. Your noble deeds that, like to thoughts, outstrip The fleeting clouds, dash all our hopes of payment: We are poor, but in unprofitable thanks; Nay, that cannot rehearse enough your merit.

Ant. I dare not hear this; pardon, bashful ears, For suffering such a scarlet to o'erspread Your burning portals. Gentlemen, your discourses taste of court, They have a relish of known flattery; I must deny to understand their folly: Your pardon, I must leave you: Modesty commands.

Ful. Your honour's vassals.

Ant. O good colonel, be more a soldier, Leave compliments for those that live at ease, To stuff their table-books; and o'er a board, Made gaudy with some pageant, beside custards, Whose quaking strikes a fear into the eaters, Dispute 'em in a fashionable method. A soldier's language should be (as his calling) Rough, to declare he is a man of fire. Farewell without the straining of a sinew, No superstitious cringe! adieu!

[Exit.

Aler. Is't not a hopeful lord? Nature to him has chain'd the people's hearts; Each to his saint offers a form of prayer For young Antonio.

Pan. And in that loved name pray for the kingdom's good.

Ful. Count Machiavel!

Enter Machiavel from behind the hangings.

Aler. Let's away.

[Exeunt: manet Machiavel.

Mach. Heart, wilt not burst with rage, to see these slaves Fawn like to whelps on young Antonio, And fly from me as from infection? Death, Confusion, and the list of all diseases, wait upon your lives Till you be ripe for hell, which when it gapes, May it devour you all: stay, Machi'vel, Leave this same idle chat, it becomes woman That has no strength, but what her tongue Makes a monopoly; be more a man, Think, think; in thy brain's mint Coin all thy thoughts to mischief: That may act revenge at full. Plot, plot, tumultuous thoughts, incorporate; Beget a lump, howe'er deform'd, that may at length, Like to a cub lick'd by the careful dam, Become (like to my wishes) perfect vengeance. Antonio, ay, Antonio—nay, all, Rather than lose my will, shall headlong fall Into eternal ruin; my thoughts are high. Death, sit upon my brow; let every frown Banish a soul that stops me of a crown.

[Exit.

Enter Evadne and Nurse.

Evad. The tailor yet return'd, nurse?

Nur. Madam, not yet.

Evad. I wonder why he makes gowns so imperfect; They need so many says.

Nur. Truly, in sooth, and in good deed, la, madam, The stripling is in love: deep, deep in love.

Evad. Ha! Does his soul shoot with an equal dart From the commanding bow of love's great god, Keep passionate time with mine? or has She spi'd my error to reflect with eager beams Of thirsty love upon a tailor, being myself Born high? [Aside.]——I must know more— In love, good nurse, with whom?

Nur. Truly, madam, 'tis a fortune, Cupid, good lad—prais'd be his godhead for't, Has thrown upon me, and I am proud on't; O, 'tis a youth jocund as sprightly May, One that will do discreetly with a wife, Board her without direction from the stars, Or counsel from the moon to do for physic; No, he's a back;—O, 'tis a back indeed!

Evad. Fie! this becomes you not.

Nur. Besides, he is of all that conquering calling, A tailor, madam: O, 'tis a taking trade! What chambermaid—with reverence may I speak of those lost maidenheads— Could long hold out against a tailor?

Evad. Y' are uncivil.

Nur. What aged female, for I must confess I am worn threadbare— Would not be turn'd, and live a marriage life, To purchase heaven?

Evad. Heaven——

Nur. Yes, my dear madam, heaven; whither, My most sweet lady, but to heaven? hell's a Tailor's warehouse; he has the keys, and sits In triumph cross-legg'd o'er the mouth: It is no place of horror, There's no flames made blue with brimstone; But the bravest silks, so fashionable— O, I do long to wear such properties!

Evad. Leave your talk, One knocks: go, see.

[Knocks within.

Nur. O, 'tis my love! I come.

[Exit.

Evad. A tailor; fie! blush, my too tardy soul, And on my brow place a becoming scorn, Whose fatal sight may kill his mounting hopes. Were he but one that, when 'twas said he's born, Had been born noble, high, Equal in blood to that our house boasts great; I'd fly into his arms with as much speed As an air-cutting arrow to the stake. But, O, he comes! my fortitude is fled.

Enter Nurse and Giovanno with a gown.

Gio. Yonder she is, and walks, yet in sense strong enough to maintain argument; she's under my cloak; for the best part of a lady, as this age goes, is her clothes; in what reckoning ought we tailors to be esteemed then, that are the master-workmen to correct nature! You shall have a lady, in a dialogue with some gallant touching his suit, the better part of man, so suck the breath that names the skilful tailor, as if it nourished her. Another Donna fly from the close embracements of her lord, to be all-over-measured by her tailor. One will be sick, forsooth, and bid her maid deny her to this don, that earl, the other marquis, nay, to a duke; yet let her tailor lace and unlace her gown, so round the skirts to fit her to the fashion. Here's one has in my sight made many a noble don to hang the head, dukes and marquises, three in a morning, break their fasts on her denials; yet I, her tailor, blessed be the kindness of my loving stars, am ushered; she smiles, and says I have stayed too long, and then finds fault with some slight stitch, that eyelet-hole's too close, then must I use my bodkin, 'twill never please else; all will not do. I must take it home for no cause but to bring it her again next morning. We tailors are the men, spite o' the proverb, ladies cannot live without. It is we

That please them best in their commodity: There's magic in our habits, tailors can Prevail 'bove him honour styles best of man.

Evad. Bid him draw near.

Nur. Come hither, love, sweet chuck: My lady calls.

Gio. What means this woman? sure, she loves me too, Tailors shall speed, had they no tongues to woo: Women would sue to them.

[Aside.]

Evad. What, have you done it now?

Gio. Madam, your gown by my industry Is purg'd of errors.

Evad. Lord, what a neat methodical way you have To vent your phrases; pray, when did you commence?

Gio. What mean you, madam?

Evad. Doctor, I mean; you speak so physical.

Nur. Nay, madam, 'tis a youth, I praise my stars For their kind influence, a woman may be proud on, And I am. O, 'tis a youth in print, a new Adonis. And I could wish, although my glass tells me I'm wondrous fair, I were a Venus for him.

Gio. O lady, you are more fairer by far.

Nur. La you there, madam!

Gio. Where art thou, man? art thou transform'd, Or art thou grown so base, that This ridiculous witch should think I love her?

[Aside.]

Evad. Leave us.

Nur. I go. Duck, I'll be here anon; I will, dove.

[Exit.

Gio. At your best leisure. Protect me, manhood, lest my glutted sense, Feeding with such an eager appetite on Your rare beauty, [and] breaking the sluices, Burst into a flood of passionate tears. I must, I will enjoy her, though a Destroying clap from Jove's artillery were the reward: And yet, dull-daring sir, by your favour, no, He must be more than savage can attempt To injure so much spotless innocence: Pardon, great powers, the thought of such offence.

[Aside.]

Evad. When Sebastiano, clad in conquering steel, And in a phrase able to kill, or from a coward's heart Banish a thought of fear, woo'd me, [He] won not so much on my captive soul As this youth's silence does. Help me, some power, out of this tangling maze, I shall be lost else.

[Aside.

Gio. Fear, to the breast of women; build Thy throne on their soft hearts; mine must not be Thy slave.—[Aside.] Your pleasure, madam?

Evad. I have a question must be directly answer'd; No excuse, but from thy heart a truth.

Gio. Command me, madam; were it a secret, On whose hinges hung the casements of my life, Yet your command shall be obey'd to the least Scruple.

Evad. I take your word: My aged nurse tells me you love her: Answer; is't a truth?

Gio. She's jealous, I'll try; As oracle.

Evad. Ha!

Gio. 'Tis so, I'll further; I love her, madam, With as rich a flame as anchorites Do saints they offer prayers unto. I hug her memory as I would embrace The breath of Jove when it pronounced me Happy, or prophet that should speak my After-life great, even with adoration deified.

Evad. My life, like to a bubble i' th' air, Dissolv'd by some uncharitable wind, Denies my body warmth: your breath Has made me nothing.

[She faints.

Gio. Rather let me lose all external being. Madam, good madam.

Evad. You say you love her.

Gio. Madam, I do. Can any love the beauty of a stone, Set by some curious artist in a ring, But he must attribute some [virtue] to The file that adds unto the lustre? You appear like to a gem, cut by the Steady hand of careful nature into such Beauteous tablets, that dull art, Famous in skilful flattery, is become A novice in what fame proclaim'd him doctor; He can't express one spark of your great lustre. Madam, those beauties that, but studied on By their admirers, are deifi'd, serve But as spots to make your red and white Envi'd of cloister'd saints.

Evad. Have I, ungrateful man, like to the sun, That from the heavens sends down his Cherishing beams on some religious plant, That with a bow, the worship of the Thankful, pays the preserver of his life And growth: but thou, unthankful man, In scorn of me, to love a calendar of many Years.[17]

Gio. Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious rite, The Heathens us'd to pay their gods, I offer up A life, that until now ne'er knew a price— Made dear because you love it.

Evad. Arise; It is a ceremony due unto none but heaven.

Gio. Here I'll take root, and grow into my grave, Unless, dear goddess, you forget to be Cruel to him adores you with a zeal, Equal to that of hermits.

Evad. I believe you, and thus exchange a devout vow Humbly upon my knees, that, though the Thunder of my brother's rage should force divorce, Yet in my soul to love you; witness all The wing'd inhabitants of the highest heaven!

Gio. If sudden lightning, such as vengeful Jove Clears the infectious air with, threaten'd to scorch My daring soul to cinders, if I Did love you, lady, I would love you, spite Of the dogged fates or any power those curs'd Hags set to oppose me.

To them enter Nurse.

Evad. Be thyself again.

Nur. Madam, your brother.

Evad. Fie! you have done it ill; our brother, say you? Pray you, take it home and mend it.

Gio. Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave. Love, I am made thy envy; I am he This vot'ress prays unto, as unto thee: Tailors are more than men; and here's the odds: They make fine ladies: ladies make them gods: And so they are not men, but far above them. This makes the tailors proud; then ladies love them.

[Exit.

Antonio meets him.

Ant. What's he that pass'd?

Evad. My tailor.

Ant. There's something in his face I (sure) should know. But, sister, to your beads; pray for distress'd Seville; Whilst I mount some watchtower, To o'erlook our enemies: religion's laws Command me fight for my lov'd country's cause.

[Exit.

Evad. Love bids me pray, and on his altars make A sacrifice for my lov'd tailor's sake.

[Exit.

Alarum. Enter Raymond, Philippa, Leonis, Gilberti, and Firenzo.

Ray. Stand.

Leo. Stand.

Gil. Stand.

Fir. Give the word through the army, stand there.

Within. Stand, stand, stand, stand, ho!

Ray. Bid the drum cease, whilst we embrace our love: Come, my Philippa, like the twins of war, Lac'd in our steelly corselets, we're become The envy of those brain-begotten gods Mouldy antiquity lifted to heaven; Thus we exchange our breath.

[Kiss.

Phil. My honour'd lord, Duty commands, I pay it back again. 'Twill waste me into smoke else. Can my body retain that breath that would Consume an army dress'd in a rougher habit? Pray, deliver (come, I'm a gentle thief) The breath you stole.

[He kisses her.

Ray. Restore back mine. [She kisses him.] So, go, pitch our tent, we'll Have a combat i' th' field of love with thee Philippa, ere we meet the foe: thou art A friendly enemy. How say you, lords? Does not my love appear Like to the issue of the brain of Jove, Governess of arms and arts, Minerva! Or a selected beauty from a troop of Amazons?

Lords. She is a mine of valour.

Phil. Lords, spare your praises till, like Bradamant, The mirror of our sex, I make the foe Of France and us crouch like a whelp, Awed by the heaving of his master's hand; My heart runs through my arm, and when I deal A blow, it sinks a soul. My sword flies nimbler than the bolts of Jove, And wounds as deep. Spain, thy proud host shall feel Death has bequeath'd his office to my steel.

Ray. Come on, brave lords; upon your general's word, Philippa loves no parley like the sword.

[Exeunt.

Enter Giovanno, Old Tailor, Vermin, and two more.

Gio. Come, bullies, come; we must forsake the use of nimble shears, and now betake us to our Spanish needles, stiletto blades, and prove the proverb lies, lies in his throat: one tailor can erect sixteen, nay more, of upstart gentlemen, known by their clothes, and leave enough materials in hell to damn a broker.

O. Tai. We must to the wars, my boys.

Ver. How, master, to the wars?

O. Tai. Ay, to the wars, Vermin; what say'st thou to that?

Ver. Nothing, but that I had rather stay at home: O, the good penny-bread at breakfasts that I shall lose! Master, good master, let me alone to live with honest John, noble John Black.

2d Tai. Wilt thou disgrace thy worthy calling, Vermin?

Ver. No, but I am afraid my calling will disgrace me: I shall be gaping for my morning's loaf and dram of ale, I shall; and now and then look for a cabbage-leaf or an odd remnant to clothe my bashful buttocks.

O. Tai. You shall.

Ver. Yes, marry; why, I hope poor Vermin must be fed, and will be fed, or I'll torment you.

Gio. Master, I take privilege from your love to hearten on my fellows.

O. Tai. Ay, ay, do, do, good boy.

[Exit.

Gio. Come, my bold fellows, let us eternise, For our country's good, some noble act, That may by time be regist'red at full: And as the year renews, so shall our fame Be fresh to after-times: the tailor's name, So much trod under and the scorn of all, Shall by this act be high, whilst others fall.

3d Tai. Come, Vermin, come.

Ver. Nay, if Vermin slip from the back of a tailor, spit him with a Spanish needle: or torment him in the louse's engine—your two thumb-nails.

[Exit all but Giovanno.

Gio. The city's sieged, and thou thus chain'd In airy fetters of a lady's love! It must not be: stay, 'tis Evadne's love; Her life is with the city ruined, if The French become victorious: Evadne must not die: her chaster name, That once made cold, now doth my blood inflame.

[Exit.

ACT II., SCENE 1.

A table and chairs.

Enter (after a shout crying Antonio) the Governor and Count Machiavel.

Gov. Hell take their spacious throats! we shall ere long Be pointed as a prodigy! Antonio is the man they load with praise, And we stand as a cypher to advance Him by a number higher.

Mach. Now, Mach'vel, plot his ruin.

[Aside.

It is not to be borne; are not you our Master's substitute? then why should he Usurp a privilege without your leave To preach unto the people a doctrine They ought not hear? He incites 'em not to obey your charge, Unless it be to knit a friendly league With the opposing French, laying before 'em A troop of feigned dangers will ensue, If we do bid 'em battle.

Gov. Dares he do this?

Mach. 'Tis done already; Smother your anger, and you shall see here At the council-board he'll break into a Passion, which [Aside] I'll provoke him to.

To them Antonio, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho: they sit in council.

Gov. Never more need, my worthy partners in The dangerous brunts of iron war, had we Of counsel: the hot-reined French, led by That haughty Moor, upon whose sword sits victory Enthroned, daily increase; And, like the army of another Xerxes, Make the o'erburthen'd earth groan at their weight. We cannot long hold out; nor have we hope Our royal master can raise up their siege, Ere we be forc'd to yield: My lord, your counsel; 'tis a desperate grief.

Mach. And must, my lord, find undelay'd release? Noble commanders, since that war's grim god, After our sacrifice of many lives, Neglects our offerings, and repays our service With loss; 'tis good to deal with policy. He's no true soldier, that deals heedless blows With the endangering of his life; and may Walk in a shade of safety, yet o'erthrow His towering enemy. Great Alexander made the then known world Slave to his powerful will more by the help Of politic wit Than by the rough compulsion of the sword. Troy, that endur'd the Grecians ten years' siege, By policy was fir'd, and became like to A lofty beacon all on flame.

Gov. Hum, hum!

Mach. Suppose the French be mark'd for conquerors? Stars have been cross'd, when at a natural birth They dart prodigious beams; their influence, Like to the flame of a new-lighted taper, Has with the breath of policy been blown Out,—even to nothing.

Ful. Hum, hum!

Aler. This has been studied.

[Aside.]

Pan. He's almost out.

[Aside.]

Gov. Good. But to the matter. You counsel?

Mach. 'Tis this, my lord, That straight, before the French have pitched their tents, Or rais'd a work before our city walls— As yet their ships have not o'erspread the sea— We send a regiment, that may with speed Land on the marshes, and begirt their backs, Whilst we open our gates, and with a strong assault Force 'em retreat into the arms of death: So the revengeful earth shall be their tomb, That did erewhile trample her teeming womb.

Gov. Machiavel speaks oracle; what says Antonio?

Ant. Nothing.

Gov. How?

Ant. Nothing.

Mach. It takes; revenge, I hug thee; young lord, thou art lost.

[Aside.

Gov. Speak, Antonio, your counsel.

Ant. Nothing.

Gov. How?

Ant. So; And could my wish obtain a sudden grant From yon tribunal, I would crave my senses Might be all steeped in Lethe, to forget What Machiavel has spoken.

Mach. Ha! it takes unto my wish.

[Aside.

Why, Antonio?

Ant. Because you speak Not like a man, that were possess'd with a Mere soldier's heart, much less a soul guarded With subtle sinews. O madness! can there be In nature such a prodigy, so senseless, So much to be wondered at, As can applaud or lend a willing ear To that my blushes do betray? I've been Tardy to hear your childish policy.

Gov. Antonio, you're too bold; this usurp'd liberty To abuse a man of so much merit is not Seemly in you: nay, I'll term it sauciness.

Ant. Nay, then, my lord, I claim the privilege Of a councillor, and will object. This my prophetic fear whisper'd my heart: When from a watchtow'r I beheld the French Erect their spears which, like a mighty grove, Denied my eyes any other object: The tops show'd by a stolen reflection from The sun like diamonds, or as the glorious Gilder of the day should deign a lower visit. Then my warm blood, that used to play like Summer, felt a change; grey-bearded winter Froze my very soul, till I became, Like the Pyrenian hills, wrapp'd in a robe of ice: My arctic[18] fears froze me into a statue.

Aler. Cowardly Antonio!

Ful. I have lost my faith, And can behold him now without a wonder.

Gov. Antonio, y' are too long, and rack our patience; Your counsel?

Ant. I fear'd—but what? not our proud enemies: No, did they burthen all our Spanish world, And I, poor I, only surviv'd to threat defiance In the mounseers'[19] teeth, and stand defendant For my country's cause, naked, unarm'd, I'd through their bragging host, and pay my life A sacrifice to death for my loved country's safety.

Aler. Fulgentio, thou hast not lost Thy faith?

[Aside.]

Ful. No, I'm reform'd; he's valiant.

[Aside.]

Gov. Antonio, your counsel?

Mach. Ay, your counsel?

Ant. Our foes increase to an unreckon'd number; We less than nothing, since we have no hope To arrive a number, that may cope with Half their army. 'Tis my counsel we strike a league: 'Tis wisdom to sue peace, where powerful fate Threatens a ruin: lest [we] repent too late.

Ful. 'Tis god-like counsel.

[Aside.

Aler. And becomes the tongue of young Antonio.

[Aside.

Gov. Antonio, let me tell you, you have lost Your valiant heart; I can with safety now Term you a coward.

Ant. Ha!

Gov. Nay, more, Since by your oratory you strive To rob your country of a glorious conquest, That may to after-times beget a fear, Even with the thought should awe the trembling World, you are a traitor.

Ant. Ha! my lord! coward and traitor! 'tis a damned lie, And in the heart of him dares say't again I'll write his error.

Mach. 'Tis as I would have't.

[Aside.

Ful. Noble Antonio!

[Aside.

Aler. Brave-spirited lord!

[Aside.

Ful. The mirror of a soldier!

[Aside.

Gov. O, are you mov'd, sir? has the deserved name Of traitor prick'd you?

Ant. Deserv'd?

Gov. Yes.

Mach. Yes.

Ant. Machiavel, thou liest; hadst thou a heart Of harden'd steel, my powerful arm Should pierce it.

[They fight all in a confused manner: Antonio kills the Governor, Machiavel falls.

Aler. The governor Slain by Antonio's hand?

Ful. No, by the hand of justice; fly, fly, my lord!

Aler. Send for a chirurgeon to dress Count Machiavel: He must be now our governor; the king Signed it in the dead governor's commission.

[Exeunt.

Ant. Now I repent too late my rash contempt: The horror of a murtherer will still Follow my guilty thoughts, fly where I will.

[Exit Antonio.

Mach. I'm wounded; else, coward Antonio, Thou shouldst not fly from my revengeful arm: But may my curses fall upon thy head, Heavy as thunder! may'st thou die Burthen'd with ulcerous sins, whose very weight May sink thee down to hell, Beneath the reach of smooth-fac'd mercy's arm!

[A shout within, crying Antonio.

Confusion choke your rash officious throats! And may that breath that speaks his loathed name Beget a plague, whose hot infectious air May scald you up to blisters, which foretel A purge of life! Up, Machiavel, Thou hast thy will, howe'er cross fate Divert the people's hearts; they must perforce Sue to that shrine our liking shall erect. The governor is dead, Antonio's lost To anything but death; 'tis our glad fate To gripe the staff of what we look'd for—state. My blood's ambitious, and runs through my veins, Like nimble water through a leaden pipe Up to some barren mountain. I must have more; All wealth, in my thoughts, to a crown is poor.

Enter Giovanno, Evadne, and Nurse.

Gio. 'Tis a neat gown, and fashionable, madam; is't not, love?

Nur. Upon my virginity, wonderful handsome: dear, when we are married, I'll have such a one; shall I not, chicken, ha?

Gio. What else, kind nurse?

Nur. Truly you tailors are the most sanctified members of a kingdom: how many crooked and untoward bodies have you set upright, that they go now so straight in their lives and conversation, as the proudest on them all?

Gio. That's certain, none prouder.

Evad. How mean you, sir?

Gio. Faith, madam, your crooked movables in artificial bodies, that rectify the deformity of nature's overplus, as bunching backs: or scarcity, as scanty shoulders—are the proudest creatures; you shall have them jet it with an undaunted boldness; for the truth is, what they want in substance they have in air: they will scold the tailor out of his art, and impute the defect of nature to his want of skill, though his labour make her appearance pride-worthy.

Nur. Well said, my bird's-nye, stand for the credit of tailors whilst thou livest; wilt thou not, chuck? Ha, say'st thou, my dear?

Gio. I were ungrateful else.

Evad. Nurse, pray leave us, your presence makes your sweetheart negligent of what he comes about; pray, be won to leave us here.

Nur. Madam, your will's obey'd: Yet I can hardly pass from thee, my love, At such a sudden warning.

Gio. Your eager love may be termed dotage; For shame! confine[20] yourself to less expressions, [And] leave my lady.

Nur. A kiss, and then I go; so, farewell, my duck.

[Exit.

Gio. Death, she has left a scent to poison me; Love her, said she? is any man so mad to hug a disease, Or embrace a colder image than Pygmalion's, Or play with the bird of Frosty antiquity? not I: Her gums stink worse than a pest-house, And more danger of infecting.

[Aside.

As I'm a mortal tailor, and your servant, madam, Her breath has tainted me: I dare not salute Your ladyship.

Evad. Come, you are loth to part with't, 'tis so sweet.

Gio. Sweet, say you, madam? a muster of diseases Can't smell worse than her rotten teeth. Excuse my boldness, to defer your longing; Thus I am new-created with your breath.

[Kisses.

My gaping pores will ne'er be satisfied. Again!—they still are hungry.

Evad. My dear friend, let not thy lovely person March with the scolding peace-affrighting drum: War is too cruel: come, I'll chain You here—here in my arms; and stifle you With kisses; you sha' not go—by this, you sha' not go.

Gio. By this, I must.

[He kisses her.

Evad. I'll smother that harsh breath.

[She kisses him.

Gio. Again I countercheck it.

[Kiss.

Enter Antonio, as pursued; he sees them, and stands amazed.

Ant. O sister! ha! What killing sight is this? cannot be she. Sister.

Evad. O my dear friend, my brother! w' are undone.

Ant. Degenerate girl, lighter than wind or air! Canst thou forget thy birth? or, 'cause thou'rt fair, Art privileg'd, dost think, with such a zeal To grasp an under-shrub? dare you exchange Breath with your tailors without fear of vengeance From the disturbed ghosts of our dead parents, For their blood's injury? or are your favours Grown prostitute to all? my unkind fate Grieves me not half so much as thee forgetful.

Gio. Sir, if on me this language, I must tell you, You are too rash to censure. My unworthiness, That makes me[21] seem so ugly in your eyes, Perhaps hangs in these clothes, and's shifted off with them. I am as noble, but that I hate to make Comparisons, as any you can think worthy To be call'd her husband.

Ant. Shred of a slave, thou liest!

Gio. Sir, I am hasty too; yet, in the presence of My mistress [I] can use a temper.

Ant. [O] brave! your mistress!

Enter Machiavel with Officers.

Mach. Lay hold on him! Ere we presume to meet the enemy, We'll purge the city; lest the wrath of Heaven Fall heavy on us. Antonio, I arrest thee Of capital treason 'gainst the king and realm. To prison with him!

Evad. O my lost brother!

Gio. 'Tis but an error; treason, d'ye call it, to kill The governor in heat of blood, and not intended? For my Evadne's sake, something I'll do Shall save his life.

[Exit.

Mach. To prison with him!

Ant. Farewell, Evadne, as thou lovest the peace Of our dead ancestors, cease to love So loath'd a thing; a tailor! Why, 'tis the scorn of all; therefore be rul'd By thy departing brother, do not mix With so much baseness. Come, officers, bear me e'en where you please, My oppress'd conscience nowhere can have ease.

[Exit with Officers.

Mach. Lady, we here enjoin you to Your chamber As a prisoner, to wait a further censure; Your brother's fault has pull'd a punishment Upon your head, which you must suffer.

Evad. E'en what you please, your tyranny can't bear A shape so bad to make Evadne fear: Strong innocence shall guard my afflicted soul, Whose constancy shall tyranny control.

[Exeunt. A noise within, crying Rescue, rescue! Enter Antonio and Guard; to them Giovanno and Tailors, and rescue him, and beat them off.

Enter an Officer, meeting Machiavel.

Off. A troop of tailors by force have ta'en Antonio from us, and have borne him (spite Of the best resistance we could make) unto some Secret place; we cannot find him.

Mach. Screech-owl, dost know what thou hast said? Death! find him, or you die! O my cross stars! He must not live to torture our vex'd sense, But die; though he'd no fault but innocence.

[Exit.

Enter Giovanno, Antonio, and the Old Tailor.

Gio. Can this kindness merit your love? Do I deserve your sister?

Ant. My sister! worthy tailor, 'tis a gift lies not in me to give: ask something else, 'tis thine, although it be gained with the quite extinguishing of this—this breath you gave me.

Gio. Have not I——

Ant. Speak no further; I confess you have been all unto me, life and being; I breathe but with your licence: will no price buy out your interest in me but her love? I tell thee, tailor, I have blood runs in me, Spain cannot match for greatness next her kings. Yet, to requite thy love, I'll call thee friend; be thou Antonio's friend—a favour nobles have thirsted for: will this requite thee?

Gio. Sir, this may, but——

Ant. My sister, thou wouldst say, most worthy tailor; she's not mine to give; honour spake in my dying father: 'tis a sentence that's registered here in Antonio's heart—I must not wed her but to one in blood calls honour father. Prythee, be my friend; forget I have a sister; in love I'll be more than a brother, though not to mingle blood.

Gio. May I not call her mistress?

Ant. As a servant, far from the thoughts of wedlock.

Gio. I'm yours, friend: I am proud on't; you shall find That, though a tailor, I've an honest mind. Pray, master, help my lord unto a suit; his life Lies at your mercy.

1st Tai. I'll warrant you.

Ant. But for thy men.

1st Tai. O, they are proud in that they rescu'd you, And my blood of honour; since you are pleas'd To grace the now declining trade of tailors By being shrouded in their homely clothes, And deck a shop-board with your noble person; The taunting scorns the foul-mouth'd world can throw Upon our needful calling shall be answered: They injure honour, since your honour is a Noble practitioner in our mystery.

Gio. Cheer up, Antonio, take him in. The rest will make him merry; I'd go try The temper of a sword upon some shield That guards a foe. Pray for my good success.

[Exit.

1st Tai. Come, come, my lord, leave melancholy To hired slaves, that murther at a price: Yours was——

Ant. No more: flatter not [so] my sin.

1st Tai. You are too strict a convertite; let's in.

[Exit.

After a confused noise within, enter Raymond, Leonis, Gilberti, hastily.

Ray. What means this capering echo? Or whence did this so lively counterfeit Of thunder break out [in] to liberty?

Gil. 'Tis from the city.

Ray. It cannot be their voice should outroar Jove; Our army, like a basilisk, has struck Death through their eyes; our number, like a wind, Broke from the icy prison of the north, Has froze the portals to their shivering hearts; They scarce have breath enough to speak't They live.

[A shout within.

Gil. 'Tis certainly from thence.

Leo. Y' are deceived, poor Spaniards! Fear Has chang'd their elevated gait to a dejection: They're planet-struck.

Ray. 'Tis from our jocund fleet, my genius prompts me; They have already plough'd th' unruly seas, And with their breasts, proof 'gainst the battering Waves, dash'd the big billows into angry froth, And, spite of the contentious foul-mouth'd gods Of sea and wind, have reach'd the city frontiers, And [have] begirt her navigable skirts. Again! 'tis so.

[Again within.

Gil. My creed's another way; I have no faith but to the city.

Alarum. Enter a Soldier bloody.

Leo. Here's one: Now we shall know. Ha! he appears Like one compos'd of horror.

Ray. What speaks thy troubled front?

Leo. Speak, crimson meteor.

Ray. Speak, prodigy, or on my sword thou fall'st.

Sol. The bold Spaniards, setting aside all cold acknowledgment of any odds, or notice of the number our army is made proud with, sends from their walls more lightning than great Jove affrights the trembling world with, when the air is turn'd to mutiny.

Ray. Villain, thou liest; 'twere madness to believe thee. Foolish Spain may, like those giants that heap hill on hill, mountain on mountain, to pluck Jove from heaven, who with a hand of vengeance flung 'em down beneath the centre, and those cloud-contemning mounts heav'd by the strength of their ambitious arms, became their monuments; so Spain's rash folly from this arm of mine shall find their graves amongst the rubbish of their ruin'd cities.

Enter a second Soldier.

What, another! thy hasty news?

2d Mess. The daring enemies have through their gates made a victorious sally: all our troops have jointly, like the dust before the wind, made a dishonoured flight. Hark!

[Alarum within.]

The conquering foe makes hitherward.

Ray. Run to my tent, fetch my Philippa, slave. Why movest thou not?

2d Mess. The enemy's upon us.

Ray. Shall I send thy coward soul down the vaults of horror? Fly, villain, or thou diest!

[Strikes him.

Alarum. Enter Machiavel, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, with Philippa prisoner, Giovanno with Tailor.

Mach. Let one post to my castle, and conduct My lady; tell her I have a prisoner would become Proud in her forc'd captivity, to wait Upon her beauty: fly, let not the tardy clouds outsail thee.

Phil. Canst thou, proud man, think that Philippa's heart Is humbled with her fortunes? No, didst thou Bring all the rough tortures From the world's childhood to this hour invented, And on my resolute body, proof against pain, Practis'd Sicilian tyranny, my giant thoughts Should, like a cloud of wind-contemning smoke, Mingle with heaven: And not a look so base as to be pitied Shall give you cause of triumph.

Aler. 'Fore heaven, a fiery girl.

Ful. A masculine spirit.

Pan. An Amazon.

Ray. See, my Philippa, her rich colour's fled, and like that soul The furrow-fronted fates have made an anvil To forge diseases on, she's lost herself With her fled beauty; yet, pale as she stands, She adds more glory to our churlish foe, Than bashful Titan to the eastern world. Spaniards, she is a conquest; Rome, When her two-neck'd eagles aw'd the world, Would have swum through her[22] own blood to purchase: Nor must you enjoy that gem the superstitious gods Would quarrel for, but through my heart. Courage, brave friends, they're valiant that can fly I' th' mouth of danger; 'tis they win, though die.

Gio. This Moor speaks truth, Wrapp'd in a voice of thunder.

Ray. Speak, my Philippa, what untutor'd slave Durst lay a rugged hand upon thy softness?

Phil. 'Twas the epitome of Hercules: No big Colossus, yet for strength far bigger: A little person, great with matchless valour.

Ray. What pains thou takest to praise Thine enemy!

Phil. 'Twere sin to rob him that has wasted so his blood for praise: this noble soldier, he 'twas made me captive; nor can he boast 'twas in an easy combat; for my good sword, now ravish'd from mine arm, forc'd crimson drops that, like a gory sweat, buried his manly body in oblivion: those that were skill'd in his effigies, as drunk with Lethe, had forgot 'twas he; till by the drawing of the rueful curtain, they saw in him their error.

Ray. A common soldier, owner of a strength worthy Such praise? Dares he cope with the French general single?

Phil. My lord, you must strike quick and sure.

Ray. Why pause you? my Philippa must not stay Captivity's infection.

Mach. We have the day.

Ray. Not till you conquer me: which if my arm Be not by witchcraft robb'd of his late strength, Shall spin your labour to an ample length.

Mach. Upon him, then.

Gio. Odds is dishonourable combat: my lads, Lets one to one; I am for the Moor.

Aler. Thee!

Ful. Tailor, you are too saucy.

Gio. Saucy?

Aler. Untutor'd groom, mechanic slave!

Gio. You have protection by the governor's presence, Else, my plum'd estridges,[23] 'tis not your feathers, More weighty than your beads, should stop My vengeance, but I'd text my wrong In bloody characters upon your pamper'd flesh.

Ful. You would?

Gio. By heaven, I would!

Ful. You'd be advis'd, and render up your life A sacrifice to patience.

Gio. Musk-cat, I'd make your civet worship stink First in your perfumed buff.

Aler. Phlegmatic slave!

Gio. Bloodless commanders.

Ful.

Pan.

Aler.

}

How?

Gio. So.

Ful.

Pan.

Aler.

}

Let's reward his boldness.

[They fall upon Giovanno.

Mach. Whence this rashness?

Ray. Bless'd occasion! let's on 'em.

[The French whisper. The French fly upon 'em: they turn to their Guard, and beat 'em off.

ACT III., SCENE 1.

Enter Machiavel, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, Alerzo, Giovanno, with Raymond prisoner, and the rest of the Tailors.

All the Tai. A tailor, a tailor, a tailor!

Gio. Raymond, y' are now my prisoner: Blind chance has favour'd, where your thoughts Had hope she meant to ruin From our discord, which Heaven has made victorious, You meant to strike a harmony should glad you.

Aler. 'Tis not to be borne: a tailor!

[Whisper.

Ful. 'Twas an affront galls me to think on't: besides, His saucy valour might have ruin'd all Our forward fortunes, had the French been stronger: Let him be banish'd.

Mach. It shall be so; My fears are built on grounds, Stronger than Atlas' shoulders: this same tailor Retains a spirit like the lost Antonio; Whose sister we will banish in pretence Of love to justice; 'tis a good snare to trap The vulgar hearts: his and her goods, to gild My lawless doings, I'll give the poor, whose tongues Are i' their bellies; which being full, Is tipp'd with heartless prayers; but, empty, A falling planet is less dangerous; they'll down To hell for curses. You tailor!

Gio. My lord.

Mach. Deliver up your prisoner.

Gio. Y' are obey'd.

Mach. So: now we command, on forfeit of thy life, You be not seen on any ground Our master's title circles within three days: Such a factious spirit we must not nourish; Lest, like the fabl'd serpent, [once] grown warm In your conceited worth, you sting Your country's breast, that nurs'd your valour.

Gio. This my reward?

Aler. More than thy worth deserves.

Gio. Pomander-box, thou liest!

Ful. Go purge yourself; your country vomits you.

Gio. Slaves, y' are not worth my anger.

Ful. Go vent your spleen 'mongst satires; pen a Pamphlet, and call't the "Scourge of Greatness."

Aler. Or "Spain's Ingratitude."

Gio. Ye are not worth my breath, Else I should curse you; but I must weep, Not that I part from thee, unthankful Spain, But my Evadne: well, it must be so: Heart, keep thy still tough temper, spite of woe.

[Exit.

Mach. My house shall be your prison. Attend 'em, colonel.

[Exeunt Raymond, Philippa, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, Giovanno,[24] &c. Manent Tailors.

Ful. Please you walk.

1st Tai. My servant banish'd?

3d Tai. Famish'd, master? nay, faith, and a tailor come to be famish'd, 'tis a hard world: no bread in this world here, ho, to save the renown'd corpse of a tailor from famishing! 'Tis no matter for drink: give me bread.

2d Tai. Thou hast a gut would swallow a peck-loaf.

3d Tai. Ay, marry would it with vantage; I tell truth, and, as the proverb says, shame the devil; if our hell afford a devil, but I see none, unless he appear in a delicious remnant of nim'd satin, and, by my faith, that's a courteous devil that suffers the brokers to hang him in their ragged wardrobe; and used to sell his devilship for money: I tell truth. A tailor, and lie? faith, I scorn that.

1st Tai. Leave your discovery.

3d Tai. Master, a traveller, you know, is famous for lying; and having travelled as far as hell, may not I make description of the unknown land?

1st Tai. My brain is busy, Sebastiano must not tread an unknown land to find a grave. Unfortunate Sebastiano! First to lose thyself in a disguise, unfitting for thy birth, and then thy country for thy too much valour:

There's danger in being virtuous in this age Led by those sinful actors; the plunged stage Of this vice-bearing world would headlong fall, But charitable virtue bears up all. I must invent: I ha't so:— As he's a tailor, he is banish'd Spain, As Sebastiano, 'tis revok'd again.

[Exit cum suis.

Enter Machiavel solus.

Mach. How subtle are my springes! they take all With what swift speed unto my chaffy bait Do all fowls fly unto their hasty ruin? Clap, clap your wings and flutter, greedy fools, Whilst I laugh at your folly; I have a wire Set for the Moor and his ambitious consort; Which if my wife would second, they are sure.

Enter Auristella.

Aur. What must she second?

Mach. Art thou there, my love? We're in a path that leads us to a height, We may confront the sun, and with a breath Extinguish common stars; be but thou rul'd, The light, that does create day to this city, Must be deriv'd from us.

Aur. You fire my soul, And to my airy wings add quicker feathers: What task would not I run to be call'd queen? Did the life-blood of all our family, Father and mother, stand as a quick wall To stop my passage to a throne, I'd with a poignard ope their azure veins, And squeeze their active blood up into clods, Till they become as cold as winter's snow; And as a bridge upon their trunks I'd go.

Mach. Our souls are twins, and thirst with equal heat For deity: kings are in all things gods, Saving mortality.

Aur. To be a queen, what danger would I run! I'd spend my life like to a barefoot nun, So I might sit above the lesser stars Of small nobility, but for a day.

Mach. 'Tis to be done, sweet love, a nearer way: I have already with the sugar'd baits Of justice, liberality, and all The fox-like gins that subtle statesmen set To catch the hearts o' th' giddy multitude: Which, if it fail, as cautious policy Forbids, I build too strongly on their drunk, Uncertain votes. I'd have thee break with my Great prisoner's wife, as I will do with him; Promise (the states equal divided) half Himself shall rule: So that if need compel us to take arms, We may have forces from the realm of France, To seat us in the chair of government.

Aur. I never shall endure to walk as equal With proud Philippa, no; my ambitious soul Boils in a thirsty flame of total glory: I must be all without a second flame To dim our lustre.

Mach. Still my very soul! Think'st thou I can endure competitor, Or let an Ethiop sit by Machiavel's side As partner in his honour? no, as I Have seen i' the commonwealth of players, One that did act the Theban Creon's part: With such a life I became ravish'd, and on Raymond mean to plot what he did on The cavilling boys of Œdipus, Whilst we grasp the whole dignity.

Aur. As how, sweet Machiavel?

Mach. It is not ripe, my love. The king, I hear, applauds my justice; Wherefore I've sent order that Count Antonio, Once being taken, be sent to Filford Mill; There ground to death.

Aur. What for his sister?

Mach. Thy envy: she I have banish'd; And her goods, to guard a shower of curses From my head, I have given the poor.

Aur. Good policy, let's home to our designs: I hate to be officious, yet my frown Shall be dissolv'd to flattery for a crown.

[Exit.

Mach. Attend your lady. So, her forward spleen, Tickled with thought of greatness makes the scene Attempts run smooth: the haughty Moor shall be The ladder, on whose servile back I'll mount To greatness. If calm peace deny me easy way, Rough war shall force it; which done, Raymond And his Philippa must go seek an empire in Elysium; for to rule predominant belongs Alone to me: slaves are unworthy rule, What state would set a crown upon a mule?

[Exit.

Antonio, disguised, sitting in a closet.

Ant. My soul is heavy, and my eyelids feel The weighty power of lazy Morpheus: Each element, that breathes a life within me, Runs a contrary course, and conspire[s] To counterfeit a chaos: whilst the frame And weak supporters of my inward man Crack as beneath the weight of Atlas' burthen. A sudden change! how my blear'd eyelids strive To force a sleep 'gainst nature! O you powers, That rule the better thoughts, if you have ought To act on my frail body, let it be With eagles' speed, or, if your wills so please, Let my forepass'd and undigested wrongs O'erwhelm my thoughts, and sink me to the ground With their no less than death's remembrances. Cease, bastard slave, to clog my senses With the leaden weights of an unwilling sleep, Unless thy raw-bon'd brother join his force, And make a separation 'twixt My airy soul and my all-earthly body; I am o'ercome; Heaven work your wills; My breath submits to this, as 'twould submit to death.

[Sleeps.

Soft music; Love descends half-way, then speaks.

Love. Sleep, entranced man, but be Wakeful in thy fancy; see, Love hath left his palace fair, And beats his wings against the air, To ease thy panting breast of ill: Love's a physician, and his[25] will Must be obey'd: therefore with haste To Flanders fly; the echoing blast Of fame shall usher thee along, And leave thee pester'd in a throng Of searching troubles, which shall be But bugbears to thy constancy.

Enter from one side Death, and from the other side Aurelia; Death strikes three times at Antonio, and Aurelia diverts it. Exeunt severally.

What this same shadow seems to be, In Flanders thou shalt real see; The maid that seem'd to conquer death, And give thee longer lease of breath, Doats on thy air; report hath been Lavish in praising thee unseen. Make haste to Flanders; time will be Accus'd of slothfulness, if she Be longer tortur'd: do not stay, My power shall guide thee on the way.

[Ascendat.[26]

Enter Giovanno and the Old Tailor.

Gio. He is asleep.

O. Tai. See how he struggles, as if some visions had Assum'd a fuller shape of horror than His troubled thoughts.[27]

Gio. His conscience gripes him to [a] purpose: See, [see,] he wakes; let us observe.

Ant. Stay, gentle pow'r, leave hostage that thy promise Thou wilt perform, and I will offer to Thy deity More than my lazy heart has offer'd yet. But stay, Antonio, can thy easy faith Give credit to a dream? an airy vision, Fram'd by a strangeling[28] fancy, to delude weak sense With a gay nothing? Recollect thyself; Advise thee by thy fears; it may force hence This midnight's shade of grief, and gild It with a morn as full of joy as does Bright Phœbus to our eastern world, when blushing He arises from the lap of sea-green Thetis To give a new day birth.

Gio. Why, how now, friend? what, talking to thyself?

Ant. O Giovanno, 'tis my unpartial thoughts, That rise in war against my guilty conscience; O, it stings me!

O. Tai. Be more a man, shrink not beneath a weight So light a child may bear it; for, believe me, If my prophetic fear deceive me not, You'd done an act Spain should for ever praise, Had you kill'd Machiavel too.

Ant. As how, good master—I must call you so? This is your livery.

O. Tai. O, y' are a noble tailor. But to Machiavel— It was my chance, being sent for by his wife To take the measure of their noble prisoner, Who, when I came, was busy being plac'd Into a room, where I might easily hear Them talk of crowns and kingdoms, And of two that should be partners in this End of Spain.

Gio. Who were they?

O. Tai. Machiavel and Raymond! At last Machiavel laugh'd, Saying: for this I made the governor To cross Antonio at the council-board; Knowing that one must, if not both, should die.

Ant. Did he say this?

O. Tai. He did, and added more, [and] under A feigned show of love to justice, [He] banished your sister.

Gio. Is Evadne banish'd?

O. Tai. She is; and, as I guess, to Flanders; Her woman too has left her.

Ant. Nay, droop not, friend: host, pray, tell proud Mach'vel I have a sword left to chastise A traitor: come, let's go seek Evadne.

Gio. O Antonio! the sudden grief almost distracts Thy friend; but come, let's go, each several [way,] And meet at Filford: if thou findest Evadne, Bear her unto the castle.

[Exit.

Ant. Farewell, good master.

[Exit.

O. Tai. O, you honour me. Bootless were all persuasions, they'll not stay. I'll to the king; this treason may become, Like a disease, out of the reach of physic, And may infect past cure, if let alone.

[Exit.

Enter Raymond and Philippa.

Phil. Erect thy head, my Raymond; be more tall Than daring Atlas, but more safely wise: Sustain no burthen but the politic care Of being great: till thou achieve the city's Axletree, and wave it as thou list.

Ray. Hast thou no skill in magic, that thou fall'st So just upon my thoughts? thy tongue is tipp'd Like nature's miracle, that draws the steel With unresisted violence: I cannot keep A secret to myself, but thy prevailing Rhetoric ravishes and leaves my breast Like to an empty casket, That once was bless'd with keeping of a jewel I durst not trust the air with, 'twas so precious: Pray, be careful.

Phil. You do not doubt me?

Ray. No, were you a woman made of such coarse ingredients as the common, which in our trivial phrase we call mere women, I would not trust thee with a cause so weighty, that the discovery did endanger this—this hair that, when 'tis gone, a lynx's [eye] cannot miss it: but you are—I want expressions, 'tis not common words can speak you truly—you are more than woman.

Phil. My lord, you know my temper, and how to win upon my heart.

Ray. I must be gone, and post a messenger: France must supply what wants to make thee great— An army, my Philippa, which these people, Snoring in pride of their last victory, Do not so much as dream on: Nor shall, till they be forced to yield their voices At our election; which will be ere long.

Phil. O, 'tis an age, I'd rather have it said, Philippa than a prisoner were dead.

[Exit.

Enter a Criminal Judge and Officers, with Antonio; Petruchio and Aurelia meet him, with Servants.

Jud. Captain Petruchio, take this condemn'd man Into your charge; it is Antonio, once A Spanish count, till his rash folly with His life made forfeit of his honour; he Was found travelling to your castle; 'Twas Heaven's will that his own feet should with A willing pace conduct him to his ruin: For the murther he must be ground to death In Filford Mill, of which you are the governor: Here my commission in its end gives strength To yours. He is your charge: farewell. His death must be with speed.

[Exit with his.[29]

Ant. Deceive me not, good glasses, [for] your lights In my esteem never till now was precious, It is the same, it is the very same I sleeping saw.

Aur. Is this the man fame speaks so nobly of? O love, Aurelia never until now Could say he knew thee; I must dissemble it.

[Aside.

Pet. Come, sir, to my castle.

Aur. Fie on you, sir; to kill a governor, it is a fact death cannot appear too horrible to punish.

Ant. Can this be truth? O shallow, shallow man, To credit air! believe there can be substance in A cloud of thick'ned smoke, as truth Hid in a dream; yes, there is truth that, like A scroll fetch'd from an oracle, Betrays the double-dealing of the gods; Dreams, that speak all of joy, do turn to grief, And such bad fate deludes my light belief.

Pet. Away with him.

[Exeunt.

Aurelia sola.

Aur. Oft have I heard my brother with a tongue Proud of the office, praise this lovely lord; And my trapp'd soul did with as eager haste Draw in the breath; and now, O Aurelia! Buried with him must all the joy thou hast For ever sleep; and with a pale consumption, Pitying him wilt thou thyself be ruin'd? He must not die; if there be any way Reveal'd to the distressed, I will find it. Assist a poor lost virgin, some good power, And lead her to a path, whose secret tract May guide both him and me unto our safety. Be kind, good wits, I never until now Put you to any trouble; 'tis your office To help at need this little world you live by: Not yet! O dulness! do not make me mad— I have't, bless'd brains! now shall a woman's wit Wrestle with fate, and if my plot but hit, Come off with wreaths: my duty, nay, my all, I must forsake, lest my Antonio fall.

[Exit.

ACT IV., SCENE 1.

Enter Giovanno mad, solus.

Not find Evadne! sure, some wanton wind Has snatch'd her from the earth into the air! Smooth Zephyr fans the tresses of her hair, Whilst slick[30] Favonius plays the fawning slave, And hourly dies, making her breasts his grave. O false Evadne! is Giovanno's love, That has outdone all merit for thy sake, So light that wind outweighs it? No, no, [no,] no; Evadne is all virtue, Sweet as the breath of roses; and as chaste As virgin lilies in their infancy. Down, you deluding ministers of air, Evadne is not light, though she be fair. Dissolve that counterfeit: ha, ha, ha, ha! See how they shrink! why so, now I will love you: Go search into the hollows of the earth, And find my love, or I will chain you up To eternity: see, see, who's this? O, I know him now. So, ho, ho! so, ho, ho! Not hear? 'Tis Phaeton: no, 'tis an heir Got, since his father's death, into a cloak Of gold outshines the sun; the headstrong horses of Licentious youth have broke their reins, and drawn Him through the signs of all libidinousness. See, from the whorish front of Capreæ He's tumbling down as low as beggary. O, are you come, grim Tartar Rhadamanth! Go, ask of Pluto, if he have not ta'en Evadne to his smoky commonwealth, And ravish'd her? Begone, why stir you not? Ha, ha, ha! the devil is afraid.

Evad. Help, a rape!

[Within.

Ban. Stop her mouth.

Gio. Who calls for help? 'tis my Evadne; ay, It was her voice that gave the echo life, That cried a rape. Devil, dost love a wench? Who was thy pander, ha? What saucy fiend Durst lay his unpar'd fangs on my Evadne? Come, I'll swim unarmed o'er Acheron, And sink grim Charon in his ferry boat.

Evad. Murder! a rape!

[Within.

Gio. I come, I come.

[Exit.

Enter the Bandit dragging Evadne by the hair: she drops a scarf. Exeunt.

Enter Giovanno again.

Gio. I cannot find her yet. The king of flames Protests she is not there: but hang him, rogue, They say he'll lie. O, how my glutted spleen Tickles to think how I have paid the slave! I made him lead me into every hole: Ha, ha, ha! what crying was there there? Here on a wheel, turn'd by a fury's hand, Hangs a distracted statesman, that had spent The little wit Heaven to strange purpose lent him To suppress right, make beggars, and get means To be a traitor. Ha, ha, ha! And here A usurer, fat with the curses of so many heirs His extortion had undone, sat to the chin In a warm bath, made of new-melted gold; And now and then a draught pass'd through his throat. He fed upon his god; but he being angry Scalded his chaps. Right against him Stood a fool'd gallant, chain'd unto a post, And lash'd by folly for his want of wit. The reeling drunkard and plump glutton stood Making of faces, close by Tantalus: But drank and fed on air. The whoremaster, Tied to a painted punk, was by a fury, Termed insatiate lust, whipped with a blade Of fire. And here—— What's here? 'tis my Evadne's veil; 'tis hers, I know't: Some slave has ravish'd my Evadne! Well, There breathes not such an impious slave in hell. Nay, it is hers, I know it too-too plain. Your breath is lost: 'tis hers: you speak in vain.

[Exit.

Thunder and lightning. Enter the Bandit, with Evadne by the hair.

Capt. Come, bring her forward; tie her to that tree, each man shall have his turn: come, minion, you must [now] squench the raging flames of my concupiscence: what, do you weep, you puritanical punk? I shall tickle mirth into you by and by. Trotter, good Trotter, post unto my cell, make compound of muskadine and eggs; for the truth is I am a giant in my promises, but in the act a pigmy: I am old, and cannot do as I have done; good Trotter, make all convenient speed.

Trot. Faith, master, if you cannot, here's them that can ferret in a coney-burrow without a provocative; I'll warrant you, good master.

Capt. No more, I say, it is a parcel of excellent mutton: I'll cut it up myself. Come, minion.

[Exit Trotter. The Captain takes his dagger and winds it about her hair, and sticks it in the ground. Thunder and lightning.

Evad. Kill me! O, kill me! Rather let me die Than live to see the jewel that adorns The souls of virtuous virgins ravish'd from me. Do not add sin to sin, and at a price That ruins me, and not enriches you, Purchase damnation: do not, do not do't. Sheathe here your sword, and my departing soul, Like your good angel, shall solicit Heaven To dash out your offences: let my flight Be pure and spotless: do not injure that Manhood would blush to think on: it is all A maid's divinity: wanting her life, She's a fair corse; wanting her chastity, A spotted soul of living infamy.

Capt. Hang chastity!

3d Ban. A very voice.

Enter Trotter.

Trot. O captain, captain! yonder is the mad Orlando the furious, and I think he takes me for——What do you call him?

Capt. What, Medor?[31]

Trot. Ay, ay, Medor: the devil Medor him, he has so nuddled[32] me——O, here he comes: I'll be gone.

[Exit.

Enter Giovanno.

Gio. Stay, satyr, stay; you are too light of foot, I cannot reach your paces, prythee, stay. What goddess have you there? Sure, 'tis Evadne! Are you the dragons that ne'er sleep, but watch The golden fruit of the Hesperides? Ha! then I am Hercules; fly ye! Sure, That face dwelt on Evadne's shoulders.

[He beats them off, and unbinds Evadne.

Evad. O thou preserver of near-lost Evadne! What must my weakness pay?

Gio. 'Tis [she,] 'tis she; she must not know I'm mad.

Evad. Assist me, some good pow'r; it is my friend.

[Aside.]

Make me but wise enough to resolve myself.

Gio. It may be 'tis not she; I'll ask her name. What are you call'd, sweet goddess?

Evad. They that know me mortal term me Evadne.

Gio. 'Tis she: ay, ay, 'tis she.

Evad. Pray you, sir, unto the bond of what I owe you, which is a poor distressed virgin's life, add this one debt: [tell me,] what are you?

Gio. Not worth your knowledge: I am a poor, a very, very poor despised thing: but say, I pray, are you sure your name's Evadne?

Evad. 'Tis questionless my tailor. [Aside.] I am she; receive me to your arms not alter'd in my heart, though in my clothes.

Gio. I do believe you, indeed I do; but stay, I don't. Are you a maid, a virgin, pray, tell me? for my Evadne could not tell a lie; speak, I shall love you, though that jewel's gone.

Evad. I am as spotless, thank your happy self that sav'd Me from those robbers, as the child which yet Is but a jelly, 'tis so young.

Gio. No more, no more, trust me, I do believe you. [They are] so many slaves, whose flaming appetites Would in one night ravish a throng of virgins, And never feel digression in their heat. I'll after, and murder all.

Evad. How do you?

Gio. Well, very well: belike, you think I am mad.

Evad. You look distractedly.

Gio. 'Tis but your thoughts; indeed I am wondrous well. How fair she looks after so foul a deed! It cannot be she should be false to me: No, thou art mad to think so. Fool, O fool! Think'st thou those slaves, having so fair a mark, Would not be shooting? Yes, they would: they have. Evadne is fly-blown: I cannot love her.

[Aside.]

Evad. What say you, sweet?

Gio. The innocence that sits upon that face Says she is chaste; the guilty cannot speak So evenly as she does: guilty, said I? Alas! it were not her fault, were she ravish'd. O madness, madness! whither wilt thou bear me?

[Aside.]

Evad. His senses are unsettled; I'll go seek Some holy man to rectify his wits. Sweet, will you go unto some hermit's cell? You look as you lack'd rest.

Gio. She speaks Like to an angel, she's the same as when I saw her first: as pure, as chaste. Did she Retain the substance of a sinner—for she is none— Her breath would then be sour, and betray The rankness of the act: but her chaste sighs Beget as sweet a dew as that of May. Why weeps Evadne? truly I am not mad. See, I am tame; pray, lead me where you please.

[Exeunt.

A banquet is set forth: enter Petruchio, Aurelia, with two Servants bringing Antonio asleep in a chair, and set him to the table.

Pet. The drink has done its part effectually; 'Twas a strong powder that could hold his senses So fast, that this removing, so full of noise, Had not the power to wake him.

Aur. Good father, let Aurelia, your daughter, Do this same act of justice; let me tread The pin:[33] the fact of his being so foul, so hateful, Has lent me, though a maid, such fortitude.

Pet. Thou hast thy wish, do't boldly; 'tis a deed That, in the ignorance of elder ages, Would be thought full of merit. Be not daunted.

Aur. I have a thought tells me it is religious To sacrifice a murtherer to death; Especially one that did act a deed So generally accounted odious.

Pet. By holy Jaques,[34] I am a governor, And should my life (though by the hand of him My duty does call king) be stroke i' th' air; My injur'd corpse should not forsake the earth Till I did see't reveng'd: be resolute, thy foot Is guided by a power that, though unseen, Is still a furtherer of good attempts.

Aur. Pray, sir, lend me the key of the back-ward, For though my conscience tells me 'tis an act I may hereafter boast of, yet I'll pass Unto our Lady's chapel, when 'tis done, To be confess'd, ere I am seen of any.

Pet. I am proud to see thee so well given. Take 'em, [my] girl, and with 'em take my prayers.

Aur. He wakes; pray, leave me, sir.

[Exit Petruchio.

So I'll make fast The door: goodness, bear witness 'tis a potent Power outweighs my duty.

Ant. Amazement! on what tenters do you stretch [me]. O, how this alteration wracks my reason! I m[ust try] To find the axletree on which it hangs! Am I asleep?

Aur. Shake off thy wonder; leave that seat; 'twas set To sink thy body for ever from the eyes Of human sight; to tell thee how would be A fatal means to both our ruins——briefly, My love has broke the bands of nature With my father to give you being.

Ant. Happy, [O] happy vision! the bless'd preparative To this same hour; my joy would burst me else.

Aur. Receive me to thy arms.

Ant. I would not wish to live but for thee: [but for thee,] Life were a trouble; welcome to my soul.

Aur. Stand; I have a ceremony To offer to our safety, ere we go.

[She takes a dog, and ties it to the chair: she stamps: the chair and dog descend: a pistol-shot within: a noise of a mill.

Had not my love, like a kind branch Of some o'erlooking tree, catch'd thee, Thou'dst fallen, never to look upon the world again.

Ant. What shall I offer to my life's preserver?

Aur. Only thy heart, crown'd with a wreath of love. Which I will ever keep; and in exchange Deliver mine.

Ant. Thus I deliver: in this kiss receive't.

Aur. In the same form Aurelia yields up hers.

[A noise.

Ant. What noise is that?

Aur. I fear my father.

Ant. What's to be done?

Aur. Through the back-ward, of which I have The key, we'll suddenly make 'scape; Then in two gowns, of which I am provided, We'll clothe ourselves, till we be pass'd all fear.

Ant. Be't as you please: 'tis my good genius' will That I obey—command; I'll follow still.

[Exeunt.

Enter Petruchio with servants.

Pet. She's gone unto her prayers; may every bead Draw down a blessing on her, that like seed May grow into a harvest: 'tis a girl My age is proud of; she's indeed the model Of her dead mother's virtues, as of shape. Bear hence this banquet.

[Exit with the banquet.

Giovanno is discovered sleeping in the lap of Evadne.

Evad. Thou silent god, that with the leaden mace Arresteth all save those prodigious birds, That are fate's heralds to proclaim all ill; Deafen Giovanno: let no fancied noise Of ominous screech-owl's or night-raven's voice Affright his quiet senses: let his sleep Be free from horror or unruly dreams; That may beget a tempest in the streams Of his calm reason: let 'em run as smooth, And with as great a silence, as those do That never took an injury; where no wind Had yet acquaintance: but like a smooth crystal Dissolv'd into a water that ne'er frown'd, Or knew a voice but music.

Enter Antonio and Aurelia in hermits' gowns.

Holy hermits, for such your habits speak you, Join your prayers with a distressed virgin's, That the wits of this distracted young man may Be settled.

Ant. Sure, 'tis my sister, and that Sleeping man, Giovanno. She loves him still.

[He wakes.

Gio. O, what a blessedness am I bereft of! What pleasure has the least part of a minute Stolen from my eyes? methought I did embrace A brother and a friend; and both Antonio.

Evad. Bless'd be those gentle powers that——

Gio. What, Evadne——have deceived my eyes, Take heed, Evadne, worship not a dream, 'Tis of a smoky substance, and will shrink Into the compass of report that 'twas, And not reward the labour of a word. Were it substantial! could I now but see That man of men, I'd by my practice Of religious prayers add to the calendar One holy-day, and keep it once a year.

Ant. Behold Antonio!

Evad. Brother!

[To Antonio.

Aur. Brother!

[To Giovanno.

Ant. What earthquake shakes my heart! With what a speed she flew into his arms!

Evad. Some power, that hearkens to the prayer of virgins, Has been distill'd to pity at my fortunes, And made Evadne happy.

Aur. Now my longing, That was grown big, is with your sight delivered Of a joy that will become a giant, and o'ercome me. Welcome, thrice welcome, brother.

Ant. Ha, her brother! Fortune has bound me so Much in their debts, I must despair to pay 'em: Twice has my life been by these twins of goodness Pluck'd from the hand of death; that fatal enmity Between our houses here shall end, Though my father at his death commanded me To eternity of hatred. What tie binds stronger than reprieve from death? Come hither, friend. Now, brother, take her, Thou'st been a noble tailor.

Gio. Be moderate, my joys, do not o'erwhelm me: Here, take Aurelia: may you live happy! O Antonio! this, this was the cause of my disguise; Sebastiano could not win Evadne's love, But Giovanno did; come now to our father's castle.

Ant. Pardon me; there is a bar, that does Concern my life, forbids you as a friend To think on going to any place But to the tailor's house, which is not far. Come: as we go, I will relate the cause.

Aur. Do, good brother.

Evad. Go, good Sebastiano.

Gio. Sebastiano is your page, and bound to follow: Lead on.

Ant. O noble temper, I admire thee! may The world bring forth such tailors every day.

[Exeunt.

Enter three Tailors on a shop-board.

1st Tai. Come, come, let's work; for if my guesses point the right, we shan't work long.

3d Tai. I care not how soon. I have a notable stomach to bread.

2d Tai. Dost hear, I suspect that courtier my master brought in last night to be the king; which if it be, bullies, all the bread in the town shan't satisfy us, for we will eat Cum privilegio.

1st Tai. Come, let's have a device, a thing, a song, boy.

3d Tai. Come, an air——

The Song.

1st Tai. 'Tis a merry life we live, All our work is brought unto us; Still are getting, never give, For their clothes all men do woo us: Yet (unkind) they blast our names With aspersions of dishonour: For which we make bold with their dames, When we take our measure on her.

All Tai. For which we, &c.

Enter Antonio, Giovanno, and the Old Tailor.

O. Tai. You see the life we live; (To the Tailors) cease.

Ant. O, 'tis a merry one.

Gio. It is no news to me, I have been us'd to't.

O. Tai. Now for discovery; the king as yet Is ignorant of your names, and shall be Till your merits beg your pardon. My lord, you are for Machiavel; take this gown.

Ant. Pray for success.

[Exit Antonio.

O. Tai. You, in this French disguise, for proud Philippa; This is her garment. I hear the king: begone: The Frenchman's folly sit upon your tongue.

[Exeunt.

Enter the King, Evadne, and Aurelia.

King. Believe me, tailor, you've outstripp'd the court, For such perfections live not everywhere; Nature was vex'd (as she's a very shrew), She made all others in an angry mood; These only she can boast for masterpieces: The rest want something or in mind or form, These are precisely made: a critic jury Of cavilling arts cannot condemn a scruple.

Aur. But that your entrance in this formal speech Betray'd you are a courtier, I had been angry At your rank flattery.

King. Can you say so?

Evad. Sir, she has spoke my meaning.

King. Friend, what are those beauties call'd.

[Aside.

O. Tai. Your grace's pardon.

King. Are they oracle, or is the knowledge fatal? But that I know thy faith, this denial Would conjure a suspicion in my breast; Use thy prerogative; 'tis thy own house, In which you are a king, and I your guest. Come, ladies.

[Exeunt.

Enter Antonio disguised like a physician.

Ant. This habit will do well, and less suspected; Wrapp'd i' this cover lives a kingdom's plague; They kill with licence; Machi'vel's proud dame, 'Tis famed, is sick: upon my soul, howe'er Her health may be, the aguish commons cry; She's a disease they groan for: this disguise Shall sift her ebon soul, and if she be Infectious, like a megrim or rot limb, The sword of justice must divide the joint That holds her to the state-endanger'd body— She comes.

Enter Machiavel, Auristella leaning on his arm, with two Servants.

Mach. Look up, my Auristella; Better the sun forsake his course to bless With his continuing beams th' Antipodes, And we grovel for ever in eternal night, Than death eclipse thy rich and stronger light. Seek some physician: horror to my soul! She faints; I'd rather lose the issue of my hopes Than Auristella.

Ant. Issue of his hopes? strange!—

[Aside.

Mach. The crown's enjoyment can yield no content Without the presence of my Auristella.

Ant. Crown's enjoyment! O villain!

Mach. Why stir you not? fetch me some skilful man, My kingdom shall reward him; if his art Chain her departing soul unto her flesh But for a day, till she be crown'd a queen: Fly, bring him unto this walk.

Ant. Stay, Most honoured count—now for a forged link Of flattery to chain me to his love.

[Aside.

Having with studious care gone o'er the art Folly terms magic, which more sublime souls Skill'd i' the stars know is above that mischief, I find you're born to be 'bove vulgar greatness, Even to a throne: but stay, let's fetch this lady.

Mach. All greatness without her is slavery.

Ant. Use modest violence.

Aur. O!

Ant. Stand wider, give her air.

Mach. God-like physician, I and all that's mine, Will at thy feet offer a sacrifice.

Ant. Forfend it, goodness; I—nay all, Ere many hours [do] make the now young day A type of sparkling youth, shall on their knees Pray for your highness.

Mach. Look up, my Auristella, and be great; Rise with the sun, but never to decline.

Aur. What have you done?

Mach. Wak'd thee to be a queen.

Aur. A queen! O, don't dissemble; you have robb'd me Of greater pleasure than the fancied bliss Elysium owns: O, for a pleasure real, that Would appear in all unto my dream: that I may Frown, and then kill: smile, and create again. Were there a hell, as doating age would have, To fright from lawless courses heedless youth: For such a short-liv'd happiness as that I would be lost unto eternity.

Mach. The day grows old in hours: Come, Auristella, to the capital; The greybeard senate shall on humble knees Pay a religious sacrifice of praise Unto thy demi-deity: the stars Have in a general senate made thee queen Of this our world. Great master of thy art, Confirm my love.

Ant. Madam——

Mach. Nay, hear him, love; Believe me, he's a man that may Be secretary to the gods; he is alone In art; 'twere sin to name a second: all are Dunces to him.

Ant. How easy is the faith of the ambitious!

[Aside.

Mach. Follow me to the council.

[Exit.

Aur. Are you the man my husband speaks so high of? Are you skill'd i' the stars?

Ant. Yes, madam.

Aur. Your habit says, or you abuse the custom,[35] You're a physician?

Ant. Madam, I'm both.[36]

Aur. And d'ye find no let that stops my rising?

Ant. Not any.

Aur. Away, your skill is dull—dull to derision. There is a star fix'd i' the heaven of greatness, That sparkles with a rich and fresher light Than our sick and defective taper.

Ant. It may be so the horoscope is troubled.

Aur. Confusion take your horoscope and you! Can you with all your art advise my fears, How to confound this constellation?

Ant. Death, how she conjures!

[Aside.

Madam, I must search into the planets.

Aur. Planet me no planets; be a physician, And from your study of industrious poisons Fetch me your best-experienc'd speedy one, And bring it to me straight: what 'tis to do, Like unresolved riddles, [is] hid from you.

[Exit.

Ant. Planet, said I? upon my life, no planet Is so swift as her never-resting evil— That is her tongue: well, I'll not question What the poison is for; if for herself, The common hangman's eas'd the labour Of a blow; for if she live, her head Must certain off; the poison I'll go get, And give it her, then to the king: If Sebastiano's Frenchified disguise Purchase the like discovery, our eyes Will be too scanty; we had need to be All eye to watch such haughty villany.

[Exit.

Enter Giovanno and Philippa.

Gio. Begare, madam, me make de gowne so brave; O, de hole vorle[37] be me patron; me ha vorke for le grand duches le Shevere, le royne de Francia, Spagna, de Angleter, and all d' fine madamosels.

Phil. Nay, monsieur, to deprive desert of praise is unknown language; troth, I use it not; nay, it is very well.

Gio. Be me trot, a, madam, me ner do ill, de English man do ill, de Spanere do, de Duch, de all do ill but your Franchman, and, begare, he do incomparable brave.

Phil. Y' are too proud on't.

Gio. Begare, me no proud i de vorle, me speak be me trot de trut, ang me no lie: metra, madam, begare, you have de find bode a de vorle, O de fine brave big ting me have ever measure, me waire fit it so pat.[38]

Enter Raymond.

Phil. Welcome, my lord! Shall I still long, yet lose my longing still? Is there no art to mount the lofty seat? No engine that may make us ever great? Must we be still styl'd subjects, and for fear Our closest whispers reach the awing ear, Not trust the wind?

Ray. Be calm, my love; Ha! who have we here? an eavesdropper?

Gio. Me, signor, be pover a jentle homa a Franch A votre commandement.

Phil. My tailor.

Gio. Oui, monsieur, de madam tailor.

Ray. Some happy genius does attend my wishes, Or, spirit-like, a page conducts unto me The ministers whose sweat must send me ease:[39] Come hither, Frenchman, canst thou rule thy tongue? Art not too much a woman?

Gio. No, begare, me show someting for de man.

Ray. Or canst thou be like a perverse one—profess doggedness? Be as a dead man dumb, briefly be this: A friend to France, and with a silent speed Post to our now approaching armed friends: Tell them that Raymond, ere the hasty sand Of a short hour be spent, shall be impal'd, And on his brow, a deputy for France, Support a golden wreath of kingly cares: Bid 'em make haste to pluck my partner down Into his grave; begone, as thou nursest In thy breast thoughts that do thirst For nobleness: be secret, and thou'rt made; If not, thou'rt nothing. Mark, 'tis Raymond says it: And, as I live, I breathe not, if my deeds Appear not in a horror 'bove my words.

Gio. Begare, me no ned de threaten, me be as close to your secret, or my lady's secrets, as de skin to de flesh—de flesh to de bone: if me tell, call me de—vat de ye call de moder o de dog, de bich; call me de son o de bich.

Enter Fulgentio.

Ful. Count Machiavel waits your honour i' th' hall.

Ray. Do't, and be more than common in our favour; Here, take this ring for thy more credit: Farewell, be quick and secret.

[Exeunt.

Gio. Folly go From my tongue, the French so nigh. And thou, Half-ruin'd Spain, so wretchedly provided: [O] strange, yet not; all countries have bred monsters: 'Tis a proverb—plain as true, and aged as 'tis both:[40] One tainted sheep mars a whole flock. Machiavel, that tainted beast, whose spreading ills Infecteth all, and by infecting kills. I'll to the French, what he intends to be Our ruin shall confound their villany.

[Exit.

ACT V., SCENE 1.

Enter the King, Antonio, Old Tailor, Evadne, Aurelia. The King and Antonio whisper.

King. For this discovery be still Antonio; The frowning law may with a furrowed face Hereafter look upon, but ne'er shall touch Thy condemn'd body. Here from a king's hand Take thy Aurelia; our command shall smoothe The rising billows of her father's rage, And charm it to a calm: let one be sent To certify our pleasure. We would see him.

O. Tai. Your grace's will shall be in all obey'd.

King. Thy loyal love makes thy king poor.

O. Tai. Let not your judgment, royal sir, be question'd. To term that love was but a subject's duty.

[Exit.

King. You sent the poison, did you?

Ant. Yes, and it like your grace; the apothecary Call'd it a strong provocative to madness.

King. Did not he question what you us'd it for?

Ant. O, my disguise sav'd him that labour, sir; My habit, that was more physician than myself, Told him 'twas to despatch some property,[41] That had been tortur'd with five thousand drugs To try experiment: another man Shan't buy the quantity of so much ratsbane Shall kill a flea, but shall be had, forsooth, Before a justice, be question'd; nay, perhaps Confin'd to peep through an iron grate: When your physician may poison who [pleaseth him], Not, cum privilegio: it is his trade.

Enter Giovanno.

Evad. O my Sebastiano!

Gio. Peace, my Evadne, the king must not yet know me.

Evad. My brother has already made you known.

Gio. Will't please your highness?

King. What, Sebastiano, to be still a king Of universal Spain without a rival? Yes, it does please me, and you ministers Of my still growing greatness shall ere long Find I am pleas'd with you, that boldly durst Pluck from the fixed arm of sleeping justice. Her long-sheath'd sword, and whet the rusty blade Upon the bones of Mach'vel, and his Confederate rebels.

Gio. That, my lord, is yet To do: let him mount higher, that His fall may be too deep for resurrection;[42] They're gone to the great hall, whither will't please Your grace disguis'd to go? your person by Our care shall be secure. Their French troops I Have sent as useless into France, by virtue Of Raymond's ring, which he gave me to bid The general by that token to march To this city.

King. What say the colonels? Will they assist me?

Ant. Doubt not, my lord.

King. Come, then, let's go guarded, with such as you 'Twere sin to fear, were all the world untrue.

[Exeunt.

Enter Tailors.

O. Tai. Now for the credit of tailors.

3d Tai. Nay, master, and we do not act, as they say, with any players in the globe of the world, let us be baited like a bull for a company of strutting coxcombs: nay, we can act, I can tell you.

O. Tai. Well, I must to the king; see you be perfect. I'll move it to his highness.

[Exit.

1st Tai. Now, my masters, are we to do; d'ye mark me? do——

3d Tai.[43] Do! what do?—Act, act, you fool you: do, said you, what do? you a player, you a plasterer, a mere dirt-dauber, and not worthy to be mentioned with Vermin, that exact actor: do, I am asham'd on't, fie!

2d Tai. Well said, Vermin, thou ticklest him, faith.

4th Tai. Do, pah!

1st Tai. Well, play; we are to play a play.

3d Tai. Play a play a play, ha, ha, ha! O egredious nonsensensical widgeon, thou shame to our cross-legged corporation; thou fellow of a sound, play a play! why forty-pound Golding of the beggars' theatre speaks better, yet has a mark for the sage audience to exercise their dexterity, in throwing of rotten apples, whilst my stout actor pockets, and then eats up, the injury: play a play! it makes my worship laugh, i' faith.

2d Tai. To him, Vermin; thou bitt'st him, i' faith.

1st Tai. Well, act a play before the king.

2d Tai. What play shall we act?

3d Tai. To fret the French the more, we will act Strange but True, or the Stradling Mounsieur, with the Neapolitan gentleman between his legs.

2d Tai. That would not act well.

3d Tai. O giant of incomparable ignorance! that would not act well, ha, ha! that would not do well, you ass, you!

2d Tai. You bit him for saying do: Vermin, leave biting; you'd best.

1st Tai. What say you to our Spanish Bilbo?

3d Tai. Who, Jeronimo?

1st Tai. Ay.

3d Tai. That he was a mad rascal to stab himself.

1st Tai. But shall we act him?

2d Tai. Ay, let us do him.

3d Tai. Do again, ha!

2d Tai. No, no, let us act him.

3d Tai. I am content.

1st Tai. Who shall act the ghost?

3d Tai. Why, marry that will I—I Vermin.

1st Tai. Thou dost not look like a ghost.

3d Tai. A little player's deceit, howe'er,[44] will do't. Mark me. I can rehearse, make me rehearse some:[45] "When this eternal substance of the soul Did live emprison'd in my wanton flesh, I was a tailor in the court of Spain."

2d Tai. Courtier Vermin in the court of Spain.

3d Tai. Ay, there's a great many courtiers Vermin indeed: Those are they beg poor men's livings; But, I say, tailor Vermin is a court-tailor.

2d Tai. Who shall act Jeronimo?

3d Tai. That will I: Mark if I do not gape wider than the widest Mouth'd fowler of them all, hang me! "Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed? ha-ugh?" Now for the passionate part— "Alas! it is my son Horatio."

1st Tai. Very fine: but who shall act Horatio?

2d Tai. Ay, who shall do your son?

3d Tai. What do, do again? well, I will act Horatio.

2d Tai. Why, you are his father.

3d Tai. Pray, who is fitter to act the son than the father That begot him?

1st Tai. Who shall act Prince Balthazar and the king?

3d Tai. I will do Prince Balthazar too: and, for the king, Who but I? which of you all has such a face for a king, Or such a leg to trip up the heels of a traitor?

2d Tai. You will do all, I think.

3d Tai. Yes, marry, will I; who but Vermin? yet I will Leave all to play the king: Pass by, Jeronimo!

2d Tai. Then you are for the king?

3d Tai. Ay, bully, ay.

1st Tai. Let's go seek our fellows, and to this gear.

3d Tai. Come on then.

[Exeunt.

A table and stools set. Enter Bravo.

Bra. Men of our needful profession, that deal in such commodities as men's lives, had need to look about 'em ere they traffic: I am to kill Raymond, the devil's cousin-german, for he wears the same complexion: but there is a right devil that hath hired me—that's Count Machiavel. Good table, conceal me; here will I wait my watchword: but stay, have I not forgot it—Then—Ay, then is my arm to enter. I hear them coming.

[Goes under the table.

Enter the King, Antonio, Old Tailor, Evadne, Aurelia, above. Machiavel, Raymond, Philippa, Auristella, Giovanno, the Colonels with a Guard below.

Mach. Pray, take your seats.

Ray. [To Philippa.] Not well? prythee, retire.

Phil. Sick, sick at heart.

Aur. Well-wrought poison! O, how joy swells me!

[Aside.

Ant. You see, my lord, the poison is box'd up.

[Above.

Phil. Health wait upon this royal company.

King. Knows she we are here?

Ant. O no, my lord, 'tis to the twins of treason: Machiavel and Raymond.

Ful. Royal! there's something in't.

Aler. It smells rank o' th' traitor.

Pan. Are you i' th' wind on't?

Aur. Will you leave us?

Phil. I cannot stay; O, I am sick to death!

[Exit.

Aur. Or I'll never trust poison more.

[Aside.

Mach. Pray, seat yourselves, Gentlemen; though your deserts have merit,

[They sit about the table.

And your worths have deserv'd nobly; But ingratitude, that should be banish'd From a prince's breast, is Philip's favourite.

King. [Above.] Philip, traitor! why not king? I am so.

Ant. Patience, good my lord; I'll down.

[Exit.

Mach. It lives too near him: You, that have ventur'd with expense of blood And danger of your lives, to rivet him Unto his seat with peace: you, that in war He term'd his Atlases, and press'd with praises Your brawny shoulders; call'd you his Colossuses, And said your looks frighted tall war Out of his territories: now in peace [behold] The issue of your labour. This bad man— Philip, I mean—made of ingratitude, Wo' not afford a name, that may distinguish Your worthy selves from cowards; [while] Civet cats spotted with rats'-dung, Or a face, like white broth strew'd o'er with currants For a stirring caper or itching dance, to please My lady Vanity, shall be made a smock-knight.

King. [Above.] Villain! must our disgrace mount thee?

Ful. To what tends this?

Aler. What means Count Machiavel?

Enter Antonio below.

Aur. To be your king; fie on this circumstance! My longing will not brook it: say, Will you obey us as your kings and queens.

[Aside.

Ful. My Lord Antonio!

Ant. Confine yourselves, the king is within hearing; therefore make show of liking Machiavel's plot: let him mount high, his fall will be the deeper: my life, you shall be safe.

[Aside.

Aur. Say, are you agreed?

Ray. If not, we'll force you to't: Speak, Frenchman, are our forces i' th' city?

Gio. Oui, mounsier.

Aler.

Ful.

Pan.

}

We acknowledge you our king.

King. More traitors!

Mach. Why——then.

[The Bravo stabs Raymond.

Ray. Ha! from whence this sudden mischief? Did you not see a hand arm'd with the fatal Ruin of my life?

Gio. Non pas, signor.

Mach. Ha, ha, ha! lay hold on those French soldiers: Away with them!

[Exeunt Guard with the French Colonels.

Ray. Was't thy plot, Machiavel? go laughing to thy grave.

[Stabs him.

Aur. Alas! my lord is wounded.

Ray. Come hither, Frenchman, make a dying man Bound to thy love; go to Philippa, Sickly as she is, bring her unto me; Or my flying soul will not depart in peace else: Prythee, make haste: yet stay, I have not breath To pay thy labour. Shrink ye, you twin-born Atlases, that bear This my near-ruin'd world; have you not strength To bear a curse, whose breath may taint the air, That this globe may feel an universal plague? No; yet bear up, till with a vengeful eye I outstare day, and from the dogged sky Pluck my impartial star. O, my blood Is frozen in my veins—farewell, revenge—me——

[Dies.

Aler. They need no law.

Ful. Nor hangman.

Pan. They condemn and execute without a jury.

Enter Philippa mad.

Phil. I come, I come; nay, fly not, for by hell I'll pluck thee by the beard, and drag thee thus Out of thy fiery cave. Ha! on yonder hill Stand troops of devils waiting for my soul: But I'll deceive 'em, and, instead of mine, Send this same spotted tiger's.

[Stabs Auristella.

Aur. O!

Phil. So, whilst they to hell Are posting with their prize, I'll steal to heaven: Wolf, dost thou grin? ha! is my Raymond dead? So ho, so ho! come back You sooty fiends, that have my Raymond's soul, Or[46] lay it down, or I will force you do't: No, won't you stir? by Styx, I'll bait you for't: Where is my crown? Philippa was a queen, Was she not, ha? Why so, where is my crown? O, you have hid it—ha, was't thou

[Overthrows the table.

That robb'd Philippa of her Raymond's life? Nay, I will nip your wings, you shall not fly; I'll pluck you by the guarded front, and thus Sink you to hell before me.

[Stabs the Bravo.

Bravo. O, O!

Phil. What, down, ho, ho, ho! Laugh, laugh, you souls that fry in endless flames; Ha, whence this chilness—must I die? Nay, then I come, I come; nay, weep not, for I come: Sleep, injur'd shadow; O, death strikes [me] dumb!

[Dies.

Aur. Machi'vel, thy hand, I can't repent, farewell: My burthened conscience sinks me down to hell.

[Dies.

Mach. I cannot tarry long, farewell; we'll meet, Where we shall never part: if here be any My life has injur'd, let your charity Forgive declining Machi'vel: I'm sorry.

Ant. His penitence works strongly on my temper. Off, disguise; see, falling count, Antonio forgives thee.

Mach. Antonio? O my shame! Can you, whom I have injur'd most, pardon my guilt? Give me thy hand yet nearer: this embrace Betrays thee to thy death: ha, ha, ha!

[Stabs him.

So weeps the Egyptian monster when it kills, Wash'd in a flood of tears; couldst ever think Machi'vel's repentance could come from his heart? No, down, Colossus, author of my sin, And bear the burthen mingled with thine own, To finish thy damnation.

Enter the King, Aurelia, Evadne, Old Tailor.

King. Accursed villain! thou hast murther'd him, That holds not one small drop of royal blood, But what is worth thy life.

Evad. O my brother!

Gio. Give him some air, the wound cannot be mortal.

Aur. Alas! he faints: O my Antonio! Curs'd Machi'vel, may thy soul——

Ant. Peace, peace, Aurelia; be more merciful: Men are apt to censure, and will condemn Thy passion, call it madness, and say thou Want'st religion: nay, weep not, sweet, For every one must die: it was thy love For to deceive the law, and give me life: But death, you see, has reach'd me: O, I die; Blood must have blood, so speaks the law of heaven: I slew the governor; for which rash deed Heaven, fate, and man thus make Antonio bleed.

[Dies.

Mach. Sleep, sleep, great heart, thy virtue made me ill: Authors of vice, 'tis fit the vicious kill: But yet forgive me: O, my once great heart Dissolves like snow, and lessens to a rheum, Cold as the envious blasts of northern wind: World, how I lov'd thee, 'twere a sin to boast; Farewell, I now must leave thee; [for] my life Grows empty with my veins: I cannot stand; my breath Is, as my strength, weak; and both seiz'd by death. Farewell, ambition! catching at a crown, Death tripp'd me up, and headlong threw me down.

[Dies.

King. So falls an exhalation from the sky, And's never miss'd because unnatural; A birth begotten by incorporate ill; Whose usher to the gazing world is wonder.

Enter Petruchio.

Alas! good man, thou'rt come unto a sight Will try thy temper, whether joy or grief Shall conquer most within thee; joy lies here, Scatter'd in many heaps: these, when they liv'd, Threaten'd to tear this balsam from our brow, And rob our majesty of this elixir.

[Points to his crown.

Is't not my right? Was I not heir to Spain?

Pet. You are our prince, and may you live Long to enjoy your right!

King. But now look here, 'tis plain grief has a hand Harder than joy; it presses out such tears. Nay, rise.

Pet. I do beseech your grace not to think me Contriver of Antonio's 'scape from death; 'Twas my disloyal daughter's breach of duty.

King. That's long since pardon'd.

Pet. You're still merciful.

King. Antonio was thy son; I sent for thee For to confirm it, but he is dead: Be merciful, and do not curse the hand That gave it him, though it deserve it.

Aur. O my griefs, are you not strong enough To break my heart? Pray, tell me—tell me true Can it be thought a sin? or is it so By my own hand to ease my breast of woe?

King. Alas! poor lady, rise; thy father's here.

Pet. Look up, Aurelia; ha! why do you kneel?

[To Giovanno.

Gio. For a blessing.

Pet. Why she is not Aurelia——do not mock me.

King. But he is Sebastiano, and your son; Late by our hand made happy by enjoying The fair Evadne, dead Antonio's sister: [Her,] for whose sake he became a tailor, And so long lived in that mean disguise.

Pet. My joy had been too great if he had liv'd; The thrifty heavens mingle our sweets with gall, Lest, being glutted with excess of good, We should forget the giver. Rise, Sebastiano, With thy happy choice; may'st thou live crown'd With the enjoyment of those benefits My prayers shall beg for [thee]: rise, Aurelia, And in some place, bless'd with religious prayers, Spend thy left remnant.[47]

Aur. You advise well: indeed, it was a fault To break the bonds of duty and of law; But love, O love! thou, whose all-conquering pow'r Builds castles on the hearts of easy maids, And makes 'em strong e'en to[48] attempt those dangers That, but rehears'd before, would fright their souls Into a jelly. Brother, I must leave you; And, father, when I send to you a note That shall desire a yearly stipend to That holy place my tired feet has found To rest them in, pray, confirm it. And now, great king, Aurelia begs of you To grace Antonio in the mournful march Unto his grave, which be where you think fit: We need not be interr'd both in one vault.

King. Bless'd virgin, thy desires I will perform.

Aur. Then I leave you; my prayers shall still attend you, As I hope yours shall accompany me. Father, your blessing, and ere long expect To hear where I am entertain'd a nun. Brother and sister, to you both adieu; Antonio dead, Aurelia marries new.

[Exit.

Pet. Farewell, [my] girl; when I remember thee, The beads I drop shall be my tears.

Enter Vermin in a cloak for the prologue.

King. She's to all virgins a true mirror. They that would behold true love, reflect on her: There 'tis engross'd.

3d Tai. Great king, our grace——

O. Tai. The king is sad, you must not act.

3d Tai. How? not act? Shall not Vermin act?

O. Tai. Yes, you shall act, but not now; the king is indispos'd.

3d Tai. Well, then, some other time, I, Vermin; the king will act before the king.

O. Tai. Very good; pray, make your exit.

3d Tai. I'll muster up all the tailors in the town, and so tickle their sides.

[The King and Giovanno whisper.

O. Tai. Nay, thou'rt a right Vermin; go, be not troublesome.

[Exit Vermin.

Gio. Upon my truth and loyalty, great king, what they did was but feign'd, merely words without a heart: 'twas by Antonio's counsel.

King. Thou art all truth: rise.

[The Colonels kneel.

Omnes. Long live King Philip in the calm of peace to exercise his regal clemency!

King. Take up Antonio's body, and let the rest Find Christian burial: mercy befits a king. Come, trusty tailor, And to all countries let swift fame report King Philip made a tailor's house his court.

O. Tai. Your grace much honours me.

King. We can't enough pay thy alone deserts; Kings may be poor when subjects are like thee, So fruitful in all loyal virtuous deeds: March with the body, we'll perform all rites Of sable ceremony: that done, We'll to our court, since all our own is won.

[Exeunt.[49]

LUST'S DOMINION
OR
THE LASCIVIOUS QUEEN.

EDITION.

Lusts Dominion; or, The Lascivious Queen. A Tragedie. Written by Christofer Marloe, Gent. London, Printed for F. K., and are to be sold by Robert Pollard, at the sign of Ben Johnson's head, on the back-side of the Old-Exchange. 1657. 12^mo.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Eleazar, the Moor, Prince of Fez and Barbary.

Philip, King of Spain, father to Fernando, Philip, and Isabella.

Fernando, King of Spain,
Philip, Prince of Spain,

}

sons to Philip.

Alvero, a nobleman, and father-in-law to Eleazar, and father to Hortenzo and Maria.

Mendoza, the cardinal.

Christofero,
Roderigo,

}

two noblemen of Spain.

Hortenzo, lover to Isabella, and son to Alvero.

Zarack,
Balthazar,

}

two Moors attending Eleazar.

Cole,
Crab,

}

two friars.

Emmanuel, King of Portugal.

Captain, Soldiers, cum aliis.

Two Pages attending the queen.

The Queen-Mother of Spain, and wife to King Philip.

Isabella, the Infanta of Spain.

Maria, wife to Eleazar, and daughter to Alvero.

The Scene, Spain.

PREFACE.

[This play was printed in 12^o, 1657 and 1661, with the name of Christopher Marlowe on the title as the author, than which few things are more improbable. Yet Dilke, who printed the piece in his series (1816), believed it to be really by Marlowe, and considered it superior to his "Faustus." He observes:] "In particular passages, and some whole scenes, 'Faustus' has great beauties; but it must have been principally indebted for its success to the superstitious ignorance of the times; 'Lust's Dominion' is a much better play." Dilke continues, "It was altered by Mrs Behn, and performed at the Duke of York's Theatre in 1671, under the title of 'Abdelazar;' and probably furnished hints for the admirable tragedy of 'The Revenge.' But, notwithstanding the luxuriance of imagery in the first scenes, the exquisite delicacy of the language that is throughout given to Maria, and the great beauty of parts, 'it has too much of "King Cambyses'" vein—rape, and murder, and superlatives;' and if the stage be intended as a portraiture of real character, such representations tend only to excite a disgust and abhorrence of human nature: with the exception of the innocent Maria, the fiery Philip, Isabella, Alvero, and Hortenzo, there is not one with whom our feelings hold communion. The open representation of the Devil in 'Faustus' is less offensive than the introduction of him here in the garb of a Moor; but the philanthropy of our ancestors was not shocked at any representation of an African or an Israelite."

Mr Collier[50] remarks, "Thomas Dekker, in partnership with William Haughton and John Day, was the author of 'The Spanish Moor's Tragedy,' which Malone, by a strange error, calls 'The Spanish Morris,' but he gives the right date, January 1599-1600. The mistake was more important than it may appear at first sight, as 'The Spanish Moor's Tragedy' was most likely the production called 'Lust's Dominion,' not printed until 1657, and falsely attributed to Marlowe. A Spanish Moor is the hero of it, and the date in Henslowe, of January 1599-1600, corresponds with that of a tract upon which some of the scenes are even verbally founded. That Marlowe, who was killed in 1593, and could not, therefore, be the author of it, requires no further proof."

LUST'S DOMINION
OR
THE LASCIVIOUS QUEEN.

ACT I., SCENE 1.

Enter Zarack, Balthazar, two Moors, taking tobacco; music sounding within. Enter Queen-Mother of Spain with two Pages. Eleazar, sitting on a chair, suddenly draws the curtain.[51]

Ele. On me does music spend this sound! on me, That hate all unity! ah, Zarack! [ah,] Balthazar!

Queen-M. My gracious lord.

Ele. Are you there with your beagles! hark, you slaves! Did not I bind you on your lives to watch That none disturb'd us?

Queen-M. Gentle Eleazar.

Ele. There, off: is't you that deaf me with this noise?

[Exeunt two Moors.

Queen-M. Why is my love's aspèct so grim and horrid? Look smoothly on me; Chime out your softest strains of harmony, And on delicious music's silken wings Send ravishing delight to my love's ears, That he may be enamoured of your tunes. Come, let's kiss.

Ele. Away, away!

Queen-M. No, no says ay; and twice away says stay: Come, come, I'll have a kiss; but if you strive, For one denial you shall forfeit five.

Ele. Nay, prythee, good queen, leave me; I am now sick and heavy, dull[52] as lead.

Queen-M. I'll make thee lighter by taking something from thee.

Ele. Do: take from me this ague and these fits That, hanging on me, Shake me in pieces, and set all my blood A-boiling with the fire of rage: away, away! Thou believ'st I jest, And laugh'st to see My wrath wear antic shapes! Begone, begone!

Queen-M. What means my love? Burst all those wires, burn all those instruments; For they displease my Moor. Art thou now pleas'd? Or wert thou now disturb'd? I'll wage all Spain To one sweet kiss, this is some new device To make me fond and long. O, you men Have tricks to make poor women die for you.

Ele. What, die for me? away!

Queen-M. Away, what way? I prythee, speak more kindly; Why dost thou frown? at whom?

Ele. At thee.

Queen-M. At me! O, why at me? For each contracted frown A crooked wrinkle interlines my brow: Spend but one hour in frowns, and I shall look Like to a beldame of one hundred years. I prythee, speak to me, and chide me not. I prythee, chide, if I have done amiss; But let my punishment be this and this.

[Kiss.

I prythee, smile on me, if but awhile, Then frown on me, I'll die: I prythee, smile. Smile on me, and these two wanton boys, These pretty lads that do attend on me, Shall call thee Jove, shall wait upon thy cup, And fill thee nectar: their enticing eyes Shall serve as crystal, wherein thou may'st see To dress thyself, if thou wilt smile on me. Smile on me, and with coronets of pearl And bells of gold, circling their pretty arms, In a round ivory fount these two shall swim, And dive to make thee sport: Bestow one smile, one little, little smile, And in a net of twisted silk and gold In my all-naked arms thyself shall lie.

Ele. Why, what to do? Lust's arms do stretch so wide That none can fill them. I lie there? away![53]

Queen-M. Where hast thou learn'd this language, that can say No more but two rude words, away, away? Am I grown ugly now?

Ele. Ugly as hell.

Queen-M. Thou lov'dst me once.

Ele. That can thy bastards tell.

Queen-M. What is my sin? I will amend the same.

Ele. Hence, strumpet! use of sin makes thee past shame.

Queen-M. Strumpet!

Ele. Ay, strumpet.

Queen-M. Too true 'tis, woe is me; I am a strumpet, but made so by thee.

Ele. By me! No, no, by these young bawds: fetch thee a glass, And thou shalt see the balls of both thine eyes Burning in fire of lust. By me! There's here, Within this hollow cistern of thy breast, A spring of hot blood: have not I, to cool it, Made an extraction to the quintessence Even of my soul: melted all my spirits, Ravish'd my youth, deflow'r'd my lovely cheeks, And dried this, this to an anatomy, Only to feed your lust?—these boys have ears—

[In a whisper.]

Yet wouldst thou murder me.

Queen-M. I murder thee!

Ele. I cannot ride through the Castilian streets But thousand eyes, through windows and through doors, Throw killing looks at me; and every slave At Eleazar darts a finger out, And every hissing tongue cries, "There's the Moor; That's he that makes a cuckold of our king; There goes the minion of the Spanish queen; That's the black prince of devils; there goes he That on smooth boys, on masques and revellings, Spend[s] the revenues of the King of Spain." Who arms this many-headed beast but you? Murder and lust are twins, and both are thine. Being weary of me, thou wouldst worry me, Because some new love makes thee loathe thine old.

Queen-M. Eleazar!

Ele. Harlot, I'll not hear thee speak.

Queen-M. I'll kill myself unless thou hear'st me speak. My husband-king upon his deathbed lies, Yet have I stol'n from him to look on thee: A queen hath made herself thy concubine, Yet dost thou now abhor me; hear me speak, Else shall my sons plague thy adult'rous wrongs, And tread upon thy heart for murdering me: This tongue hath murder'd me. Cry murder, boys.

[The Queen shouts.]

Two Boys. Murder! the queen's murder'd!

Ele. Love, slaves, peace!

Two Boys. Murder! the queen's murder'd!

Ele. Stop your throats! Hark! hush, you squaller. Dear love, look up: Our chamber-window stares into the court, And every wide-mouth'd ear, hearing this news, Will give alarum to the cuckold king: I did dissemble when I chid my love, And that dissembling was to try my love.

Queen-M. Thou call'dst me strumpet.

Ele. I'll tear out my tongue From this black temple for blaspheming thee.

Queen-M. And when I woo'd thee but to smile on me, Thou cri'dst away, away, and frown'dst upon me.

Ele. Come, now I will kiss thee; now I'll smile upon thee; Call to thy ashy cheeks their wonted red; Come, frown not, pout not; smile, smile upon me, And with my poniard will I stab my flesh, And quaff carouses to thee of my blood; Whilst in moist nectar kisses thou dost pledge me. How now, why star'st thou thus?

[Knock.

Enter Zarack.

Zar. The king is dead!

Ele. Ah, dead! [ah, dead!] You hear this? Is't true, is't true? The king [is] dead! Who dare knock thus?

Zar. It is the cardinal Making inquiry if the queen were here.

Ele. See, she is here, [go] tell him; and yet [no—] Zarack, stay.

Enter Balthazar.

Bal. Don Roderigo's come to seek the queen.

Ele. Why should Roderigo seek her here?

Bal. The king hath swooned thrice; and, being recovered, Sends up and down the court to seek her grace.

Ele. The king was dead with you. [To Zarack.] Run, and with a voice Erected high as mine, say thus, thus threaten, To Roderigo and the cardinal: Seek no queens here, I'll broach them, if they do, Upon my falchion's point:

[Knock again.

Again! more knocking!

Zar. Your father is at hand, my gracious lord.

Ele. Lock all the chambers, bar him out, you apes: Hither, a vengeance! stir, Eugenia, You know your old walk underground; away! So down, hie to the king; quick, quick, you squalls, Crawl with your dam i' th' dark; dear love, farewell: One day I hope to shut you up in hell.

[Eleazar shuts them in.

SCENE II.

Enter Alvero.

Alv. Son Eleazar, saw you not the queen?

Ele. Hah!

Alv. Was not the queen here with you?

Ele. Queen with me! Because, my lord, I'm married to your daughter, You, like your daughter, will grow jealous: The queen with me! with me a Moor, a devil, A slave of Barbary, a dog—for so Your silken courtiers christen me. But, father, Although my flesh be tawny, in my veins Runs blood as red, as royal, as the best And proudest in Spain; there does, old man. My father, who with his empire lost his life, And left me captive to a Spanish tyrant,— O! Go tell him, Spanish tyrant; tell him, do. He that can lose a kingdom, and not rave, He's a tame jade; I am not: tell old Philip I call him tyrant; here's a sword and arms, A heart, a head, and so, pish!—'tis but death. Old fellow, she's not here: but ere I die, Sword, I'll bequeath thee a rich legacy.

Alv. Watch fitter hours to think on wrongs than now; Death's frozen hand holds royal Philip's heart; Half of his body lies within a grave; Then do not now by quarrels shake that state, Which is already too much ruinate. Come, and take leave of him, before he die.

[Exit.

Ele. I'll follow you. Now, purple villany, Sit like a robe imperial on my back, That under thee I closelier may contrive My vengeance; foul deeds hid do sweetly thrive. Mischief, erect thy throne, and sit in state Here, here upon this head; let fools fear fate, Thus I defy my stars. I care not, I, How low I tumble down, so I mount high: Old Time, I'll wait bareheaded at thy heels, And be a footboy to thy winged hours; They shall not tell one minute out in sands, But I'll set down the number; I'll still wake, And waste these balls of sight by tossing them In busy observations upon thee. Sweet opportunity! I'll bind myself To thee in base apprenticehood so long, Till on thy naked scalp grow hair as thick As mine; and all hands shall lay hold on thee, If thou wilt lend me but thy rusty scythe, To cut down all that stand within my wrongs And my revenge. Love, dance in twenty forms Upon my beauty, that this Spanish dame May be bewitch'd and doat; her amorous flames Shall blow up the old king, consume his sons, And make all Spain a bonfire. This Tragedy being acted, hers doth begin: To shed a harlot's blood can be no sin.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

The Curtain being drawn, there appears in his bed King Philip, with his Lords; the Princess Isabella at the feet, Mendoza, Alvero, Hortenzo, Fernando, Roderigo; and to them enter Queen in haste.

Queen-M. Whose was that screech-owl's voice that, like the sound Of a hell-tortur'd soul, rung through mine ears Nothing but horrid shrieks, nothing but death? Whilst I, vailing my knees to the cold earth, Drowning my wither'd cheeks in my warm tears, And stretching out my arms to pull from heaven Health for the royal majesty of Spain, All cried, the majesty of Spain is dead! That last word dead struck through the echoing air Rebounded on my heart, and smote me down Breathless to the cold earth, and made me leave My prayers for Philip's life; but, thanks to heaven, I see him live, and lives (I hope) to see Unnumber'd years to guide this empery.

King P. The number of my years ends in one day: Ere this sun's down, all a king's glory sets, For all our lives are but death-counterfeits. Father Mendoza, and you peers of Spain, Dry your wet eyes; for sorrow wanteth force T' inspire a breathing soul in a dead corse; Such is your king. Where's Isabella, our daughter?

Men. At your bed's feet, confounded in her tears.

King P. She of your grief the heaviest burthen bears; You can but lose a king, but she a father.

Queen-M. She bear the heaviest burthen! O, say rather I bear, and am borne down; my sorrowing Is for a husband's loss, loss of a king.

King P. No more. Alvero, call the princess hither.

Alv. Madam, his majesty doth call for you.

King P. Come hither, Isabella, reach a hand, Yet now it shall not need: instead of thine, Death, shoving thee back, clasps his hands in mine, And bids me come away: I must, I must, Though kings be gods on earth, they turn to dust. Is not Prince Philip come from Portugal?

Rod. The prince as yet is not return'd, my lord.

King P. Commend me to him, if I ne'er behold him. This tells the order of my funeral; Do it as 'tis set down; embalm my body; Though worms do make no difference of flesh, Yet kings are curious here to dig their graves; Such is man's frailty: when I am embalm'd, Apparel me in a rich royal robe, According to the custom of the land; Then place my bones within that brazen shrine, Which death hath builded for my ancestors; I cannot name death, but he straight steps in And pulls me by the arm.

Fer. His grace doth faint; Help me, my lords, softly to raise him up.

Enter Eleazar, and stands sadly by.

King P. Lift me not up, I shortly must go down. When a few dribbling minutes have run out, Mine hour is ended. King of Spain, farewell; You all acknowledge him your sovereign?

All. When you are dead, we will acknowledge him.

King P. Govern this kingdom well; to be a king Is given to many, but to govern well Granted to few. Have care to Isabel; Her virtue was King Philip's looking-glass; Reverence the queen your mother; love your sister And the young prince your brother: even that day, When Spain shall solemnise my obsequies, And lay me up in earth, let them crown you. Where's Eleazar, Don Alvero's son?

Fer. Yonder, with cross'd arms, stands he malcontent.

King P. I do commend him to thee for a man Both wise and warlike; yet beware of him: Ambition wings his spirit; keep him down. What will not men attempt to win a crown? Mendoza is protector of thy realm, I did elect him for his gravity; I trust he'll be a father to thy youth. Call help, Fernando, now I faint indeed.

Fer. My lords!

King. P. Let none with a distracted voice Shriek out, and trouble me in my departure. Heaven's hands, I see, are beckoning for my soul; I come, I come; thus do the proudest die; Death hath no mercy, life no certainty.

[Dies.

Men. As yet his soul's not from her temple gone: Therefore forbear loud lamentation.

Queen-M. O, he's dead, he's dead! lament and die; In her king's end begins Spain's misery.

Isa. He shall not end so soon. Father, dear father!

Fer. Forbear, sweet Isabella: shrieks are vain.

Isa. You cry forbear; you by his loss of breath Have won a kingdom, you may cry forbear: But I have lost a father and a king, And no tongue shall control my sorrowing.

Hor. Whither, good Isabella?

Isa. I will go Where I will languish in eternal woe.

Hor. Nay, gentle love.

Isa. Talk not of love to me, The world and the world's pride henceforth I'll scorn.

[Exit.

Hor. My love shall follow thee; if thou deny'st To live with poor Hortenzo as his wife, I'll never change my love, but change my life.

Enter Philip hastily.

Phil. I know he is not dead; I know proud death Durst not behold such sacred majesty. Why stand you thus distracted? Mother, brother, My Lord Mendoza, where's my royal father?

Queen-M. Here lies the temple of his royal soul.

Fer. Here's all that's left of Philip's majesty; Wash you his tomb with tears: Fernando's moan, Hating a partner, shall be spent alone.

[Exit.

Phil. O happy father! miserable son! Philip is gone to joy, Philip's forlorn: He dies to live, my life with woe is torn.

Queen-M. Sweet son.

Phil. Sweet mother: O, how I now do shame To lay on one so foul so fair a name: Had you been a true mother, a true wife, This king had not so soon been robb'd of life.

Queen-M. What means this rage, my son?

Phil. Call not me your son. My father, whil'st he liv'd, tir'd his strong arms In bearing Christian armour 'gainst the Turks, And spent his brains in warlike stratagems To bring confusion on damn'd infidels: Whilst you, that snorted here at home, betray'd His name to everlasting infamy; Whilst you at home suffer'd his bedchamber To be a brothelry; whilst you at home Suffer'd his queen to be a concubine, And wanton red-cheek'd boys to be her bawds; Whilst she, reeking in that lecher's arms——

Ele. Me!

Phil. Villain, 'tis thee; Thou hell-begotten fiend, at thee I stare.

Queen-M. Philip, thou art a villain to dishonour me.

Phil. Mother, I am no villain: 'tis this villain Dishonours you and me, dishonours Spain, Dishonours all these lords; this devil is he, That——

Ele. What! O, pardon me, I must throw off All chains of duty, wert thou ten kings' sons; Had I as many souls as I have sins, As this from hence, so they from this should fly, In just revenge of this indignity.

Phil. Give way, or I'll make way upon your bosoms.

Ele. Did my dear sovereign live, sirrah, that tongue——

Queen-M. Did but King Philip live, traitor, I'd tell——

Phil. A tale that should rid both your souls to hell. Tell Philip's ghost, that Philip tells his queen, That Philip's queen is a Moor's concubine; Did the king live, I'd tell him how you two Ripp'd up the entrails of his treasury With masques and antic revellings.

Ele. Words insupportable! dost hear me, boy?

Queen-M. Stand you all still, and see me thus trod down?

Phil. Stand you all still, yet let this devil stand here?

Men. Forbear, sweet prince. Eleazar, I am now Protector to Fernando, King of Spain; By that authority, and by consent Of all these peers, I utterly deprive thee Of all those royalties thou holdst in Spain.

Queen-M. Cardinal, who lends thee this commission?

Ele. Cardinal, I'll shorten thee by the head for this.

Phil. Forward, my Lord Mendoza; damn the fiend.

Ele. Princes of Spain, consent you to this pride?

All. We do.

Queen-M. For what cause? Let his faith be tried.

Men. His treasons need no trial, they're too plain. Come not within the court; for, if you do, To beg with Indian slaves I'll banish you.

[Exeunt all but Alvero, Queen and Eleazar.

SCENE IV.

Alv. Why should my son be banished?

Enter Maria.

Queen-M. Of that dispute not now. Alvero, I'll to the king my son; it shall be tried, If Castile's king can cool a cardinal's pride.

[Exeunt Queen and Alvero.

Ele. If I digest this gall—O my Maria, I am whipp'd, and rack'd, and torn upon the wheel Of giddy Fortune; she and her minions Have got me down, and treading on my bosom, They cry, Lie still: the cardinal (O rare!) would bandy me away from Spain, And banish me to beg—ay, beg with slaves.

Maria. Conquer with patience these indignities.

Ele. Patience! ha, ha! yes, yes, an honest cardinal!

Maria. Yet smother [still] the grief, and seek revenge.

Ele. Ha! banish me! s'foot, why, say they do, There's Portugal—a good air, and France—a fine country, Or Barbary—rich, and has Moors; the Turk, Pure devil, and allows enough to fat The sides of villany—good living there! I can live there, and there, and there; Troth, 'tis a villain can live anywhere. But say I go from hence: I leave behind me A cardinal that will laugh; I leave behind me A Philip that will clap his hands for joy. And dance lavoltoes through the Castile court; But the deep'st wound of all is this, I leave My wrongs, dishonours, and my discontents— O, unreveng'd; my bedrid enemies Shall never be rais'd up by the strong physical Curing of my sword; therefore stay still; Many have hearts to strike, that dare not kill Leave me, Maria. Cardinal, this disgrace Shall dye thy soul as inky as my face. Pish!—hence, Maria.

Enter Alvero.

Maria. To the king I'll fly, He shall revenge my lord's indignity.

[Exit.

Alv. Mendoza woos the king to banish thee. Startle thy wonted spirits, awake thy soul, And on thy resolution fasten wings, Whose golden feathers may outstrip their hate.

Ele. I'll tie no golden feathers to my wings.

Alv. Shall they thus tread thee down, which once were glad To lacquey by thy conquering chariot-wheels?

Ele. I care not: I can swallow more sour wrongs.

Alv. If they triumph o'er thee, they'll spurn me down.

Ele. Look: spurn again!

Alv. What ice hath cool'd that fire, Which sometimes made thy thoughts to heaven aspire? This patience had not wont to dwell with thee.

Enter Fernando and Maria.

Ele. 'Tis right, but now the world is chang'd, you see; Though I seem dead to you, here lives a fire—— No more, here comes the king and my Maria: The Spaniard loves my wife; she swears to me She's chaste as the white moon; well, if she be; Well, too, if she be not, I care not, I; I'll climb up by that love to dignity.

Fer. Thou woo'st me to revenge thy husband's wrong, I woo thy fair self not to wrong thyself; Swear but to love me, and to thee I'll swear To crown thy husband with a diadem.

Maria. Such love as I dare yield, I'll not deny.

Fer. When in the golden arms of majesty— I am broke off—yonder thy husband stands; I'll set him free, if thou unite my bands; So much for that. Durst then the cardinal Put on such insolence? tell me, fair madam, Where's your most valiant husband?

Ele. He sees me, and yet inquires for me.

Maria. Yonder, my lord.

Fer. Eleazar, I have in my breast writ down From her report your late receiv'd disgrace; My father lov'd you dearly, so will I.

Ele. True, for my wife's sake.

[Aside.

Fer. This indignity Will I have interest in; for, being your king, You shall perceive I'll curb my underling. This morning is our coronation, and [Our] father's funeral solemnised. Be present, step into your wonted place, We'll gild your dim disgraces with our grace.

[Exeunt.

Ele. I thank my sovereign that you love my wife; I thank thee, wife, that thou wilt lock my head In such strong armour to bear off all blows; Who dare say such wives are their husbands' foes? Let's see now, by her falling I must rise; Cardinal, you die if the king bid me live; Philip, you die for railing at me; Proud lord, you die, that with Mendoza cried, Banish the Moor. And you, my loving liege, you're best sit fast: If all these live not, you must die at last.

ACT II., SCENE 1.

Enter two Lords, Philip, Mendoza, Eleazar, with him the King crowned; Queen-Mother, Alvero, Zarack, Balthazar, and Attendants.

Men. Why stares this devil thus, as if pale death Had made his eyes the dreadful messengers To carry black destruction to the world? Was he not banish'd Spain?

Phil. Your sacred mouth Pronounc'd the sentence of his banishment: Then spurn the villain forth.

Ele. Who spurns the Moor, Were better set his foot upon the devil. Do spurn me, and this confounding arm of wrath Shall, like a thunderbolt breaking the clouds, Divide his body from his soul! Stand back. Spurn Eleazar!

Rod. Shall we bear this pride?

Alv. Why not? he underwent much injury.

Men. What injury have we perform'd, proud lord?

Ele. Proud cardinal, my unjust banishment.

Men. 'Twas we that did it, and our words are laws.

King. 'Twas we repeal'd him, and our words are laws.

Zar. Bal. If not, these are.

[All the Moors draw.

Phil. How! threaten'd and outdar'd!

King. Shall we give arm to hostile violence? Sheathe your swords, sheathe them: it's we command.

Ele. Grant Eleazar justice, my dread liege.

Men. Eleazar hath had justice from our hands, And he stands banish'd from the court of Spain.

King. Have you done justice? Why, Lord Cardinal, From whom do you derive authority To banish him the court without our leave?

Men. From this, the staff of our protectorship; From this, which the last will of your dead father Committed to our trust; from this high place, Which lifts Mendoza's spirits beyond the pitch Of ordinary honour, and from this——

[King takes the staff from Mendoza, and gives it to Eleazar.

King. Which too much overweening insolence Hath quite ta'en from thee. Eleazar, up, And from us sway this staff of Regency.

All. How's this!

Phil. Dare sons presume to break their father's will?

King. Dare subjects countercheck their sovereign's will? 'Tis done, and who gainsays it, is a traitor.

Phil. I do, Fernando, yet am I no traitor.

Men. Fernando, I am wrong'd; by Peter's chair, Mendoza vows revenge. I'll lay aside My cardinal's hat, and in a wall of steel, The glorious livery of a soldier, Fight for my late-lost honour.

King. Cardinal!

Men. King! thou shalt be no king for wronging me. The Pope shall send his bulls through all thy realm, And pull obedience from thy subjects' hearts, To put on armour of the Mother Church. Curses shall fall like lightnings on thy head, Bell, book, and candle: holy water, prayers, Shall all chime vengeance to the court of Spain, Till they have power to conjure down that fiend, That damn'd Moor, that devil, that Lucifer, That dares aspire the staff the card'nal sway'd.

Ele. Ha, ha, ha! I laugh yet, that the cardinal's vex'd.

Phil. Laugh'st thou, base slave! the wrinkles of that scorn Thine own heart's blood shall fill. Brother, farewell; Since you disprove the will our father left For base lust of a loathed concubine.

Ele. Ha! concubine! who does Prince Philip mean?

Phil. [To Eleazar.] Thy wife. [To Alvero.] Thy daughter. Base, aspiring lords, Who to buy honour are content to sell Your names to infamy, your souls to hell. And stamp you now? Do, do, for you shall see I go for vengeance, and she'll come with me.

Ele. Stay, for she's here already, see, proud boy.

[They both draw.

Queen-M. Hold! stay this fury; if you long for blood, Murder me first. Dear son, you are a king; Then stay the violent tempest of their wrath.

King. Shall kings be oversway'd in their desires?

Rod. Shall subjects be oppress'd by tyranny?

Queen-M. No state shall suffer wrong; then hear me speak: Mendoza, you have sworn you love the queen; Then by that love I charge you leave these arms. Eleazar, for those favours I have given you, Embrace the cardinal, and be friends with him.

Ele. And have my wife call'd strumpet to my face!

Queen-M. 'Twas rage made his tongue err; do you not know The violent love Mendoza bears the queen? Then speak him fair, for in that honey'd breath I'll lay a bait shall train him to his death.

[Aside.

Come, come, I see your looks give way to peace; Lord Cardinal, begin; and [Aside] for reward, Ere this fair setting sun behold his bride, Be bold to challenge love, yet be denied.

Men. That promise makes me yield. [Aside.] My gracious lord, Though my disgrace hath graven its memory On every Spaniard's eye, yet shall the duty I owe your sacred highness, and the love My country challengeth, make me lay by Hostile intendments, and return again To the fair circle of obedience.

King. Both pardon and our favour bids you welcome; And for some satisfaction for your wrongs, We here create you Salamanca's Duke: But first, as a true sign all grudges die, Shake hands with Eleazar, and be friends; This union pleaseth us. Now, brother Philip, You are included in this league of love, So is Roderigo. To forget all wrongs, Your castle for awhile shall bid us welcome; Eleazar, shall it not? It is enough. Lords, lead the way, that [Aside] whilst you feast yourselves, Fernando may find time all means to prove, To compass fair Maria for our love.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE II.

Queen-Mother and Eleazar.

Ele. Madam, a word: now have you wit or spirit?

Queen-M. Both.

Ele. Set them both to a most gainful task. Our enemies are in my castle-work.

Queen-M. Ay; but the king's there too; it's dangerous pride To strike at those that crouch by a lion's side.

Ele. Remove them.

Queen-M. How?

Ele. How! a thousand ways: By poison, or by this [Points to his sword]; but every groom Has skill in such base traffic; no, our policies Must look more strange, must fly with loftier wings; Vengeance, the higher it falls, more honour brings; But you are cold—you dare not do.

Queen-M. I dare.

Ele. You have a woman's heart; look you, this hand—

[Takes her hand.

O, 'tis too little to strike home.

Queen-M. At whom?

Ele. Your son.

Queen-M. Which son? the king?

Ele. Angels of heaven Stand like his guard about him! how, the king! Not for so many worlds as there be stars Sticking upon th' embroider'd firmament. The king! he loves my wife, and should he die, I know none else would love her; let him live In heaven.[54]

[Aside.

Good Lord Philip——

Queen-M. He shall die.

Ele. How? good, good.

Queen-M. By this hand.

Ele. When? good, good; when?

Queen-M. This night, if Eleazar give consent.

Ele. Why, then, this night Philip shall not live To see you kill him! Is he not your son? A mother be the murd'rer of a brat That liv'd within her! ha!

Queen-M. 'Tis for thy sake.

Ele. Pish! What excuses cannot damn'd sin make To save itself! I know you love him well; But that he has an eye, an eye, an eye. To others, our two hearts seem to be lock'd Up in a case of steel; upon our love others Dare not look; or, if they dare, they cast Squint, purblind glances. Who care, though all see all, So long as none dare speak? But Philip Knows that iron ribs of our villains Are thin: he laughs to see them, like this hand, With chinks and crevices; how [with] a villanous, A stabbing, [a] desperate tongue the boy dare speak: A mouth, a villanous mouth! let's muzzle him.

Queen-M. How?

Ele. Thus: Go you, and with a face well-set do In good sad colours, such as paint out The cheek of that foul penitence, and with a tongue Made clean and glib, cull from their lazy swarm Some honest friars whom that damnation, gold, Can tempt to lay their souls to the stake; Seek such—they are rank and thick.

Queen-M. What then? I know such—what's the use?

Ele. This is excellent! Hire these to write books, preach, and proclaim abroad That your son Philip is a bastard.

Queen-M. How?

Ele. A bastard. Do you know a bastard? do't: Say conscience spake with you, and cried out do't; By this means shall you thrust him from all hope Of wearing Castile's diadem, and, that spur Galling his sides, he will fly out and fling, And grind the cardinal's heart to a new edge Of discontent; from discontent grows treason, And on the stalk of treason, death: he's dead, By this blow and by you; yet no blood shed. Do't then; by this trick he is gone. We stand more sure in climbing high; Care not who fall, 'tis real policy: are you Arm'd to do this, ha?

Queen-M. Sweet Moor, it is done.

Ele. Away then; work with boldness and with speed: On greatest actions greatest dangers feed.

[Exit Queen-Mother.

Ha, ha! I thank thee, provident creation, That seeing[55] in moulding me thou didst intend I should prove villain; thanks to thee and nature, That skilful workman: thanks for my face: Thanks that I have not wit to blush! What, Zarack! ho, Balthazar!

Enter the two Moors.

Both. My lord.

Ele. Nearer. So: silence! Hang both your greedy ears upon my lips; Let them devour my speech, suck in my breath, and in. Who let's it break prison, here is his death. This night the card'nal shall be murder'd.

Both. Where?

Ele. And to fill up a grave Philip dies.

Both. Where?

Ele. Here.

Both. By whom?

Ele. By thee, and, slave, by thee. Have you [the] hearts and hands to execute?

Both. Here's both.

1st Moor. He dies, were he my father.

Ele. Ho, away. Stay—go, go—stay; see me no more till night. Your cheeks are black; let not your souls look white.

Both. Till night?

Ele. Till night: a word! the Mother-Queen Is trying, if she can, with fire of gold Warp the green consciences of two covetous friars To preach abroad Philip's bastardy.

1st Moor. His bastardy! who was his father?

Ele. Who? Search for these friars: hire them to work with you. Their holy callings will approve the fact Most good and meritorious: sin shines clear, When her black face religion's mask doth wear. Here comes the queen—good—and the friars.

SCENE III.

Enter two friars, Crab and Cole, and Queen-Mother.

Cole. Your son a bastard? say, we do; But how then shall we deal with you? I tell you, as I said before, His being a bastard, you are so poor In honour and in name, that time Can never take away the crime.

Queen-M. I grant that, friar; yet rather I'll endure The wound of infamy to kill my name, Than to see Spain bleeding with civil swords. The boy is proud, ambitious; he woos greatness; He takes up Spanish hearts on trust to pay them, When he shall finger Castile's crown. O, then, Were it not better my disgrace were known, Than such a base aspirer fill the throne?

Cole. Ha, brother Crab, what think you?

Crab. As you, dear brother Cole.

Cole.Then we agree. Cole's judgment is as Crab's, you see. Lady, we swear to speak and write What you please, so all go right.

Queen-M. Then, as we gave directions, spread abroad In Cadiz, Madrid, Granada, and Medina, And all the royal cities of the realm, Th' ambitious hopes of that proud bastard Philip: And sometimes, as you see occasion, Tickle the ears of the rude multitude With Eleazar's praise; gild his virtues, Naples' recovery, and his victories Achiev'd against the Turkish Ottoman. Will you do this for us?

Ele. Say, will you?

Both. Ay.

Ele. Why start you back and stare? Ha! are you afraid?

Cole. O, no, sir, no! but, truth to tell, Seeing your face, we thought of hell.

Ele. Hell is a dream.

Cole. But none do dream in hell.

Ele. Friars, stand to her and me; and by your sin I'll shoulder out Mendoza from his seat, And of two friars create you cardinals. O, how would cardinals' hats on their heads sit?

Cole. This face would look most goodly under it. Friar[s] Crab and Cole do swear In those circles still to appear, In which she or you do charge us rise; For you our lives we'll sacrifice. Valete, gaudete: Si pereamus, flete; Orate pro nobis, Oremus pro vobis. Cole will be burnt and Crab be press'd, Ere they prove knaves; thus are you cross'd and bless'd.

Ele. Away! you know. [Exeunt Friars.] Now, madam, none shall throw Their leaden envy in an opposite scale, To weigh down our true golden happiness.

Queen-M. Yes, there is one.

Ele. One! who? Give me his name, and I will turn It to a magic spell to bind Him here, here. Who?

Queen-M. Your wife Maria.

Ele. Ha! my Maria!

Queen-M. She's The Hellespont divides my love and me: She being cut off——

Ele. Stay, stay; cut off! Let's think upon't; my wife! Humph! kill her too!

Queen-M. Does her love make thee cold?

Ele. Had I a thousand wives, down go they all. She dies; I'll cut her off. Now, Balthazar!

Enter Balthazar.

Bal. Madam, the king entreats your company.

Queen-M. His pleasure be obey'd. Dear love, farewell; Remember your Maria.

[Exit.

Ele. Dear,[56] adieu; With this I'll guard her, whilst it stabs at you.

[Points to his sword.

My lord,[57] the friars are won to join with us. Be prosperous! about it, Balthazar.

Bal. The watchword?

Ele. O, the word; let it be Treason. When we cry treason, break ope chamber doors: Kill Philip and the cardinal. Hence!

Bal. I fly.

[Exit.

Ele. Murder, now ride in triumph; darkness, horror, Thus I invoke your aid; your act begin; Night is a glorious robe for th' ugliest sin.

SCENE IV.

Enter Cole and Crab in trousers; the Cardinal in one of their weeds, and Philip putting on the other.

Friars. Put on, my lord, and fly, or else you die.

Phil. I will not, I will die first. Cardinal, Prythee, good cardinal, pluck off, friars; slave! Murder us two! he shall not, by this sword.

Car. My lord, you will endanger both our lives.

Phil. I care not; I'll kill some before I die. Away! s'heart! take your rags! Moor, devil, come.

Friars. My lord, put on, or else——

Phil. God's foot! come, help.

Car. Ambitious villain! Philip, let us fly Into the chamber of the mother-queen.

Phil. Thunder beat down the lodgings.

Car. Else Let's break into the chamber of the king.

Phil. Agreed. A pox upon these lousy gabardines. Agreed; I am for you, Moor; stand side by side; Come, hands off; leave your ducking.[58] Hell cannot fright Their spirits that do desperately fight.

Cole. You are too rash, you are too hot; Wild desperateness doth valour blot. The lodging of the king's beset With staring faces black as jet, And hearts of iron: your deaths are vow'd, If you fly that way; therefore shroud Your body in friar Cole's grey weed; For is't not madness, man, to bleed, When you may 'scape untouch'd away? Here's hell, here's heaven: here if you stay, You're gone, you're gone; friar Crab and I Will here dance friskin, whilst you fly. Gag us, bind us, come put on; The gag's too wide; so gone, gone, gone!

Phil. O, well, I'll come again. Lord Cardinal, Take you the castle, I'll to Portugal. I vow I'll come again, and if I do——

Car. Nay, good my lord.

Phil. Black devil, I'll conjure you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

To the Friars making a noise, gagged and bound, enter Eleazar, Zarack, Balthazar, and other Moors, all with their swords drawn.

Ele. Guard all the passages. Zarack, stand there; There Balthazar, there you. The friars? Where have you plac'd the friars?

All. My lord, a noise![59]

Bal. The friars are gagg'd and bound.

Ele. 'Tis Philip and the cardinal; shoot:—ha! stay— Unbind them. Where's Mendoza and the prince?

Cole. Santa Maria, who can tell! By Peter's keys, they bound us well, And having crack'd our shaven crowns, They have escap'd you in our gowns.

Ele. Escap'd! escap'd away! I am glad, it's good; I would their arms may turn to eagles' wings, To fly as swift as time. Sweet air, give way: Winds, leave your two-and-thirty palaces, And meeting all in one, join all your might To give them speedy and a prosperous flight. Escaped, friars! which way?

Both. This way.

Ele. Good! Alas, what sin is't to shed innocent blood? For look you, holy men, it is the king: The king, the king. See, friars, sulphury wrath Having once entered into royal breasts, Mark how it burns. The queen, Philip's mother. O, most unnatural! will have you two Divulge abroad that he's a bastard. O, Will you do it?

Crab. What says my brother friar?

Cole. A prince's love is balm, their wrath is fire.

Crab. 'Tis true; but yet I'll publish no such thing; What fool would lose his soul to please a king?

Ele. Keep there—good, there; yet, for it wounds my soul To see the miserablest wretch to bleed, I counsel you, in care unto your lives, T' obey the mother-queen; for by my life, I think she has been prick'd [in] her conscience. O, it has stung her for some fact misdone, She would not else disgrace herself and son. Do't therefore; hark! she'll work your deaths else, hate Bred in woman is insatiate. Do't, friars.

Crab. Brother Cole, zeal sets me in a flame: I'll do't.

Cole. And I: his baseness we'll proclaim.

[Exeunt Friars.

Ele. Do, and be damn'd; Zarack and Balthazar, Dog them at the heels; and when their poisonous breath Hath scatter'd this infection on the hearts Of credulous Spaniards, here reward them thus:

[Points to his sword.

Slaves too much trusted do grow dangerous. Why this shall feed and fat suspicion And my policy. I'll ring through all the court this loud alarum, That they contriv'd the murder of the king, The queen, and me; and, being undermin'd, To 'scape the blowing up, they fled. O, good! There, there, thou there, cry treason; each one take A several door; your cries my music make.

Bal. Where is the king? treason pursues him.

Enter Alvero in his shirt, his sword drawn.

Ele. Where is the sleeping queen? Rise, rise, and arm against the hand of treason.

Alv. Whence comes this sound of treason?

Enter the King in his shirt, his sword drawn.

King. Who frights our quiet slumbers with This heavy noise?

Enter Queen in her night attire.

Queen-M. Was it a dream, or did the sound Of monster treason call me from my rest?

King. Who rais'd this rumour? Eleazar, you?

Ele. I did, my liege, and still continue it, Both for your safety and mine own discharge.

King. Whence comes the ground then?

Ele. From the cardinal And the young prince who, bearing in his mind The true idea of his late disgrace In putting him from the protectorship, And envying the advancement of the Moor, Determined this night to murder you; And for your highness lodged within my castle, They would have laid the murder on my head.

King. The cardinal and my brother! bring them forth: Their lives shall answer this ambitious practice.

Ele. Alas! my lord, it is impossible; For when they saw I had discovered them, They train'd two harmless friars to their lodgings, Disrob'd them, gagg'd them, bound them to two posts, And in their habits did escape the castle.

King. The cardinal is all ambition, And from him doth our brother gather heart.

Queen-M. Th' ambition of the one infects the other, And, in a word, they both are dangerous: But might your mother's counsel stand in force, I would advise you, send the trusty Moor To fetch them back, before they have seduc'd The squint-ey'd multitude from true allegiance, And drawn them to their dangerous faction.

King. It shall be so. Therefore, my state's best prop, Within whose bosom I durst trust my life, Both for my safety and thine own discharge, Fetch back those traitors; and till your return Ourself will keep your castle.

Ele. My liege, the tongue of true obedience Must not gainsay his sovereign's impose. By heaven! I will not kiss the cheek of sleep, Till I have fetched those traitors to the court!

King. Why, this sorts right: he gone, his beauteous wife Shall sail into the naked arms of love.

[Aside.

Queen-M. Why, this is as it should be; he once gone, His wife, that keeps me from his marriage-bed, Shall by this hand of mine be murdered.

[Aside.

King. This storm is well-nigh past; the swelling clouds That hang so full of treason, by the wind In awful majesty are scattered. Then each man to his rest. Good night, sweet friend! Whilst thou pursu'st the traitors that are fled, Fernando means to warm thy marriage-bed.

[Exeunt.

Ele. Many good nights consume and damn your souls! I know he means to cuckold me this night, Yet do I know no means to hinder it: Besides, who knows whether the lustful king, Having my wife and castle at command, Will ever make surrender back again? But if he do not, with my falchion's point I'll lance those swelling veins, in which hot lust Does keep his revels; and with that warm blood, Where Venus' bastard cooled his swelt'ring spleen, Wash the disgrace from Eleazar's brow.

SCENE VI.

Enter Maria.

Maria. Dear Eleazar!

Ele. If they lock the gates, I'll toss a ball of wildfire o'er the walls.

Maria. Husband! sweet husband!

Ele. Or else swim o'er the moat, And make a breach th[o]rough the flinty sides Of the rebellious walls.

Maria. Hear me, dear heart.

Ele. Or undermine the chamber where they lie, And by the violent strength of gunpowder Blow up the castle and th' incestuous couch, In which lust wallows; but my labouring thoughts, Wading too deep in bottomless extremes, Do drown themselves in their own stratagems.

Maria. Sweet husband, dwell not upon circumstance, When weeping sorrow, like an advocate, Importunes you for aid; look in mine eye, There you shall see dim grief swimming in tears, Invocating succour. O, succour!

Ele. Succour! zounds! for what?

Maria. To shield me from Fernando's unchaste love, Who with uncessant prayers importun'd me——

Ele. To lie with you! I know't.

Maria. Then seek some means how to prevent it.

Ele. 'Tis [im]possible: For, to the end that his unbridled lust Might have more free access unto thy bed, This night he hath enjoined me To fetch back Philip and the cardinal.

Maria. Then this ensuing night shall give an end To all my sorrows; for before foul lust Shall soil the fair complexion of mine honour, This hand shall rob Maria of her life.

Ele. Not so, dear soul; for in extremities Choose out the least: and ere the hand of death Should suck this ivory palace of thy life, Embrace my counsel, and receive this poison Which, in the instant he attempts thy love, Then give it him: do, do, Do poison him. [Aside.] He gone, thou'rt next— Be sound in resolution, and farewell. By one and one I'll ship you all to hell.

[Aside.]

Spain, I will drown thee with thine own proud blood, Then make an ark of carcases: farewell! Revenge and I will sail in blood to hell.

[Exit.

Maria. Poison the king! alas! my trembling hand Would let the poison fall; and through my cheeks Fear, suited in a bloodless livery, Would make the world acquainted with my guilt. But thanks, prevention: I have found a means, Both to preserve my royal sovereign's life And keep myself a true and loyal wife.

[Exit.

ACT III., SCENE 1.

Enter Queen-Mother with a torch.

Queen-M. Fair eldest child of love, thou spotless night, Empress of silence, and the queen of sleep, Who with thy black cheeks' pure complexion, Mak'st lovers' eyes enamour'd of thy beauty, Thou art like my Moor; therefore will I adore thee For lending me this opportunity, O, with the soft-skinn'd negro. Heavens, keep back The saucy staring day from the world's eye, Until my Eleazar make return: Then in his castle shall he find his wife Transform'd into a strumpet by my son: Then shall he hate her, whom he would not kill; Then shall I kill her, whom I cannot love. The king is sporting with his concubine. Blush not, my boy; be bold like me thy mother. But their delights torture my soul like devils, Except her shame be seen: wherefore awake! Christophero! Roderigo! raise the court; Arise, you peers of Spain; Alvero, rise; Preserve your country from base infamies.

Enter at several doors, with lights and rapiers drawn, Alvero, Roderigo, and Christophero, with others.

All. Who rais'd these exclamations through the court?

Queen-M. Sheathe up your swords; you need not swords, but eyes To intercept this treason.

Alv. What's the treason? Who are traitors? ring the larum-bell; Cry Arm through all the city: once before The horrid cry of treason did affright Our sleeping spirits.

Queen-M. Stay; You need not cry Arm, arm! for this black deed Works treason to your king, to me, to you, To Spain, and all that shall in Spain ensue. This night Maria (Eleazar's wife) Hath drawn the king by her lascivious looks Privately to a banquet; I (unseen) Stood and beheld him in her lustful arms; O God! shall bastards wear Spain's diadem? If you can kneel to baseness, vex them not; If you disdain to kneel, wash off this blot.

Rod. Let's break into the chamber, and surprise her.

Alv. O miserable me! do, do, break in; My country shall not blush at my child's sin.

Queen-M. Delay is nurse to danger, follow me; Come you and witness to her villany.

Alv. Hapless Alvero, how art thou undone In a light daughter and a stubborn son!

[Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE II.

Enter King, with his rapier drawn in one hand, leading Maria, seeming affrighted, in the other.

Maria. O, kill me, ere you stain my chastity.

King. My hand holds death; but love sits in mine eye. Exclaim not, dear Maria; do but hear me. Though thus in dead of night, as I do now, The lustful Tarquin stole to the chaste bed Of Collatine's fair wife, yet shall thou be No Lucrece, nor thy king a Roman slave, To make rude villany thine honour's grave.

Maria. Why from my bed have you thus frighted me?

King. To let thee view a bloody horrid tragedy.

Maria. Begin it, then; I'll gladly lose my life, Rather than be an emperor's concubine.

King. By my high birth, I swear thou shalt be none; The tragedy I'll write with my own hand; A king shall act it, and a king shall die, Except sweet mercy's beam shine from thine eye. If this affright thee, it shall sleep for ever. If still thou hate me, thus this noble blade This royal purple temple shall invade.

Maria. My husband is from hence: for his sake spare me.

King. Thy husband is no Spaniard: thou art one: So is Fernando; then for country's sake, Let me not spare thee: on thy husband's face Eternal night in gloomy shades doth dwell; But I'll look on thee like the gilded sun, When to the west his fiery horses run.

Maria. True, here you look on me with sunset eyes, For by beholding you my glory dies.

King. Call me thy morning then; for, like the morn, In pride Maria shall through Spain be borne.

[Music plays within.

This music was prepar'd to please thine ears:[60] Love me, and thou shalt hear no other sounds.

[A banquet brought in.

Lo, here's a banquet set with mine own hands; Love me, and thus I'll feast thee like a queen. I might command thee, being thy sovereign; But love me, and I'll kneel and sue to thee, And circle this white forehead with the crown Of Castile, Portugal, and Arragon, And all those petty kingdoms which do bow Their tributary knees to Philip's heir.

Maria. I cannot love you whilst my husband lives.

King. I'll send him to the wars, and in the front Of some main army shall he nobly die.

Maria. I cannot love you if you murder him.

King. For thy sake then I'll call a parliament, And banish by a law all Moors from Spain.

Maria. I'll wander with him into banishment.

King. It shall be death for any negro's hand To touch the beauty of a Spanish dame. Come, come, what needs such cavils with a king? Night blinds all jealous eyes, and we may play. Carouse that bowl to me: I'll pledge all this; Being down, we'll make it more sweet with a kiss. Begin, I'll lock all doors: begin, Spain's queen:

[Locks the doors.

Love's banquet is most sweet when 'tis least seen.

Maria. O thou conserver of my honour's life: Instead of poisoning him, drown him in sleep. Because I'll quench the flames of wild desire, I'll drink this off—let fire conquer love's fire.

[Aside.

King. Were love himself in real substance here, Thus would I drink him down; let your sweet strings Speak louder: pleasure is but a slave to kings, In which love swims. Maria, kiss thy king: Circle me in this ring of ivory; O, I grow dull, and the cold hand of sleep Hath thrust his icy fingers in my breast,[61] And made a frost within me. Sweet, one kiss To thaw this deadness that congeals my soul.

Maria. Your majesty hath overwatch'd yourself. He sleeps already—not the sleep of death, But a sweet slumber, which the powerful drug Instill'd through all his spirits. O bright day, Bring home my dear lord ere his king awake, Else of his unstain'd bed he'll shipwreck make.

[Offers to go.

Enter Oberon, and Fairies dancing before him; and Music with them.

Maria. O me! what shapes are these?

Ober. Stay, stay, Maria.

Maria. My sovereign lord awake, save poor Maria.

Ober. He cannot save thee: save that pain; Before he wake, thou shalt be slain: His mother's hand shall stop thy breath, Thinking her own son is done to death: And she that takes away thy life, Does it to be thy husband's wife: Adieu, Maria, we must hence: Embrace thine end with patience. Elves and fairies make no stand, Till you come in fairyland.

[Exeunt dancing and singing.

Maria. Fairies or devils, whatsoe'er you be, Thus will I hide me from your company.

[Offers to go.

SCENE III.

To her enter Queen-Mother suddenly, with Alvero and Roderigo with rapiers.

Queen-M. Lay hold upon the strumpet! where's the king? Fernando! son! Ah me! your king is dead! Lay hands upon the murd'ress.

Maria. Imperious queen, I am as free from murder as thyself; Which I will prove, if you will hear me speak. The king is living.

Rod. If he liv'd, his breath would beat within his breast.

Queen-M. The life he leads, Maria, thou shalt soon participate.

Maria. O father, save me!

Alv. Thou'rt no child of mine. Hadst thou been owner of Alvero's spirit, Thy heart would not have entertain'd a thought That had convers'd with murder: yet mine eyes, Howe'er my tongue wants words, brimful with tears Entreat her further trial.

Queen-M. To what end? Here lies her trial; from this royal breast Hath she stolen all comfort—all the life Of every bosom in the realm of Spain.

Rod. She's both a traitor and [a] murd'ress.

Queen-M. I'll have her forthwith strangled.

Alv. Hear her speak.

Queen-M. To heaven let her complain, if she have wrong; I murder but the murd'ress of my son.

All. We murder [but] the murd'ress of our king.[62]

Alv. Ah me! my child! O, O, cease your torturing!

Maria. Heaven ope your windows, that my spotless soul, Riding upon the wings of innocence, May enter Paradise. Fairies, farewell; Fernando's death in mine you did foretell.

[She dies. King wakes.

King. Who calls Fernando? Love—Maria, speak; O, whither art thou fled? Whence flow these waters, That fall like winter-storms from the drown'd eyes?

Alv. From my Maria's death.

King. My Maria dead! Damn'd be the soul to hell that stopp'd her breath. Maria! O me! who durst murder thee?

Queen-M. I thought my dear Fernando had been dead, And in my indignation murder'd her.

King. I was not dead, until you murder'd me By killing fair Maria.

Queen-M. Gentle son——

King. Ungentle mother, you a deed have done Of so much ruth, that no succeeding age Can ever clear you of. O my dear love! Yet heavens can witness thou wert never mine. Spain's wonder was Maria.

Queen-M. Sweet, have done.

King. Have done! for what? For shedding zealous tears Over the tomb of virtuous chastity? You cry Have done, now I am doing good; But cried Do on, when you were shedding blood. Have you done, mother? Yes, yes, you have done That which will undo your unhappy son.

Rod. These words become you not, my gracious lord.

King. These words become not me! no more it did Become you, lords, to be mute standers-by, When lustful fury ravish'd chastity: It ill becomes me to lament her death; But it became you well to stop her breath! Had she been fair, and not so virtuous, This deed had not been half so impious.

Alv. But she was fair in virtue, virtuous fair. O me!

King. O me! she was true honour's heir. Hence, beldam, from my presence! all, fly hence; You are all murderers. Come, poor innocent, Clasp thy cold hand in mine; for here I'll lie, And since I liv'd for her, for her I'll die.

SCENE IV.

Enter Eleazar with a torch, his rapier drawn.

Ele. Bar up my castle gates! fire and confusion Shall girt these Spanish curs. Was I for this Sent to raise power against a fugitive? To have my wife deflower'd? Zounds! where's my wife? My slaves cry out she's dallying with the king: Stand by; where is your king? Eleazar's bed Shall scorn to be an Emperor's brothelry.

Queen-M. Be patient, Eleazar; here's the king.

Ele. Patience and I am foes. Where's my Maria?

Alv. Here is her hapless corse, that was Maria.

King. Here lies Maria's body, here her grave, Her dead heart in my breast a tomb shall have.

Ele. Now, by the proud complexion of my cheeks, Ta'en from the kisses of the amorous sun, Were he ten thousand kings that slew my love, Thus should my hand, plum'd with revenge's wings, Requite mine own dishonour and her death.

[Stabs the King.

Queen-M. Ah me! my son!

All. The king is murder'd! Lay hold on the damn'd traitor.

Ele. In his breast, That dares but dart a finger at the Moor, I'll bury this sharp steel, yet reeking warm With the unchas'd[63] blood of that lecher-king, That threw my wife in an untimely grave.

Alv. She was my daughter, and her timeless grave Did swallow down my joys as deep as yours. But thus——

Ele. But what? Bear injuries that can: I'll wear no forked crest.

Rod. Damn this black fiend! cry treason through the court: The king is murder'd.

Ele. He that first opes his lips, I'll drive his words Down his wide throat upon my rapier's point. The king is murder'd, and I'll answer it. I am dishonour'd, and I will revenge it. Bend not your dangerous weapons at my breast; Think where you are: this castle is the Moor's; You are environ'd with a wall of flint, The gates are lock'd, portcullises let down; If Eleazar spend one drop of blood,

[Zarack and Balthazar above with calivers.[64]]

On those high turret-tops my slaves stand arm'd, And shall confound your souls with murd'ring shot: Or if you murder me, yet underground A villain, that for me will dig to hell, Stands with a burning linstock in his fist, Who, firing gunpowder, up in the air Shall fling your torn and mangled carcases.

Queen-M. O, sheathe your weapons: though my son be slain, Yet save yourselves; choose a new sovereign.

All. Prince Philip is our sovereign, choose him king!

Ele. Prince Philip shall not be my sovereign. Philip's a bastard, and Fernando's dead. Mendoza sweats to wear Spain's diadem: Philip has sworn confusion to this realm. They both are up in arms; war's flames do shine Like lightning in the air. Wherefore, my lords, Look well on Eleazar; value me, Not by my sunburnt cheeks, nor by my birth, But by my loss of blood, Which I have sacrific'd in Spain's defence. Then look on Philip and the cardinal; Look on those gaping curs, whose wide throats Stand stretch'd wide open like the gates of death, To swallow you, your country, children, wives. Philip cries fire and blood: the cardinal Cries likewise fire and blood. I'll quench those flames. The Moor cries blood and fire, and that shall burn, Till Castile, like proud Troy, to cinders turn.

Rod. Lay by these ambages; what seeks the Moor?

Ele. A kingdom, Castile's crown.

Alv. Peace, devil; for shame!

Queen-M. Peace, doating lord, for shame! O misery, When Indian slaves thirst after empery! Princes and peers of Spain, we are beset With horror on each side; [if] you deny him, Death stands at all our backs: we cannot fly him. Crown Philip king: the crown upon his head Will prove a fiery meteor; war and vengeance And desolation will invade our land. Besides, Prince Philip is a bastard born. O, give me leave to blush at mine own shame; But I, for love to you, love to fair Spain, Choose rather to rip up a queen's disgrace Than, by concealing it, to set the crown Upon a bastard's head: wherefore, my lords, By my consent, crown that proud blackamoor. Since Spain's bright glory must so soon grow dim— Since it must end, let it end all in him.

All. Eleazar shall be king!

Alv. O treachery! Have you so soon ras'd out Fernando's love? So soon forgot the duty of true peers? So soon, so soon, buried a mother's name, That you will crown him king that slew your king?

Ele. Will you hear him or me? who shall be king?

All. Eleazar shall be Castile's sovereign!

Alv. Do, do: make haste to crown him. Lords, adieu: Here hell must be, when the devil governs you.

[Exit.

Ele. By heaven's great star, which Indians do adore, But that I hate to hear the giddy world Shame, that I waded to a crown through blood, I'd not digest his pills: but since, my lords, You have chosen Eleazar for your king, Invest me with a general applause.

All. Live, Eleazar, Castile's royal king!

Rod. A villain and a base-born fugitive.

[Aside.]

Chris. A bloody tyrant and usurping slave.

[Aside.]

Ele. Thanks to you all: 'tis not the Spanish crown That Eleazar strives for, but Spain's peace. Amongst you I'll divide her empery: Christofero shall wear Granada's crown; To Roderigo I'll give Arragon; Naples, Navarre, and fair Jerusalem I'll give to other three; and then our viceroys Shall shine about our bright Castilian crown, As stars about the sun. Cry all, arm, arm; Prince Philip and the cardinal do ride Like Jove in thunder; in a storm we'll meet them. Go, levy powers; if any man must fall, My death shall first begin the funeral.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Enter Zarack and Balthazar, with calivers.

Bal. Is thy cock ready, and thy powder dry?

Zar. My cock stands perching like a cock o' the game, with a red coal for his crest, instead of a comb; and for my powder, 'tis but touch and take.

Bal. I have tickling gear too; anon I'll cry, here I have it, and yonder I see it. But, Zarack, is't policy for us to kill these bald-pates?

Zar. Is't policy for us to save ourselves? If they live, we die. Is't not wisdom then to send them to heaven, rather than be sent ourselves? Come, you black slave, be resolute. This way they come; here they will stand, and yonder will I stand.

Bal. And in yonder hole I.

Zar. Our amiable faces cannot be seen if we keep close; therefore hide your cock's head, lest his burning cock's-comb betray us. But soft; which of the two shall be thy white?[65]

Bal. That black villain friar Cole.

Zar. I shall have a sharp piece of service; friar Crab shall be my man. Farewell, and be resolute.

Bal. Zounds! Zarack, I shall never have the heart to do it.

Zar. You rogue, think who commands—Eleazar. Who shall rise—Balthazar. Who shall die—a lousy friar. Who shall live—our good lord and master, the negro-king of Spain.

Bal. Cole, thou art but a dead man, and shalt turn to ashes.

[Exit.

Zar. Crab, here's that shall make vinegar of thy carcase.

[Exit.

Enter Crab and Cole, two friars, with a rout of stinkards following them.

Crab. Ah! brother, 'tis best so. Now we have drawn them to a head, we'll begin here i' the market-place. Tut, so long as we be commanded by the mother-queen, we'll say her son is a bastard, an' he were ten Philips.

Cole. Take you one market-form, I'll take another.

Crab. No, God's-so',[66] we must both keep one form.

Cole. Ay, in oration, but not in station. Mount, mount.

1st Stink. Well, my masters, you know him not so well as I, on my word. Friar Crab is a sour fellow.

2d Stink. Yet he may utter sweet doctrine, by your leave. But what think you of friar Cole?

1st Stink. He? all fire: an' he be kindled once, a hot catholic.

3d Stink. And you mark him, he has a zealous nose, and richly inflamed.

1st Stink. Peace, you rogues! Now they begin.

Crab. Incipe, Frater.

Cole. Non ego, Domine.

Crab. Nec ego.

Cole. Quare?

Crab. Quia?

Cole. Quæso.

All. Here's a queasy beginning, methinks. Silence! silence!

Crab. Brethren, citizens, and market-folks of Seville.

Cole. Well-beloved and honoured Castilians.

Crab. It is not unknown to you.

Cole. I am sure you are not ignorant.

Crab. How villanous and strong!

Cole. How monstrous and huge!

Crab. The faction of Prince Philip is.

Cole. Philip, that is a bastard.

Crab. Philip, that is a dastard.

Cole. Philip, that killed your king.

Crab. Only to make himself king.

Cole. And, by Gad's blessed lady, you are all damned, and you suffer it.

1st Stink. Friar Cole says true: he speaks out to the heat of his zeal: look how he glows!

2d Stink. Well, friar Crab for my money; he has set my teeth an edge against this bastard.

1st Stink. O, his words are like vergis to whet a man's stomach.

All. Silence! silence!

Crab. Now contrariwise.

Cole. Your noble king the Moor——

Crab. Is a valiant gentleman;

Cole. A noble gentleman;

Crab. An honourable gentleman;

Cole. A fair black gentleman.

Crab. A friend to Castilians,

Cole. A champion for Castilians,

Crab. A man fit to be a king.

Cole. If he were not borne down by him that would be king, who (as I said before) is a bastard, and no king.

1st Stink. What think you, my masters? Do you mark his words well?

Crab. Further, compare them together.

All. S'blood! there's no comparison between them.

Cole. Nay, but hear us, good countrymen.

All. Hear friar Cole! hear friar Cole!

Cole. Set[67] that bastard and Eleazar together.

1st Stink. How? mean you by the ears?

Crab. No, but compare them.

Cole. Do but compare them.

2d Stink. Zounds! we say again, comparisons are odious.

1st Stink. But say on, say on.

[Pieces go off; friars die.

All. Treason! treason! every man shift for himself. This is Philip's treason. Arm, arm, arm!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Enter Eleazar, Zarack, and Balthazar.