A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xiv Part 34

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 h.e.l.l, 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d'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 h.e.l.l 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 c.o.c.k ready, and thy powder dry?

ZAR. My c.o.c.k stands perching like a c.o.c.k 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 c.o.c.k's head, lest his burning c.o.c.k'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.