A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xiv Part 48

ELE. My lords, because you shall believe me too, Go to the castle: I will follow you.

ALV. Thanks to the mighty Moor; and, for his fame, Be more in honour than thou art in name: But let me wish the other prisoners well, The queen and cardinal: let all have right, Let law absolve them, or dissolve them quite.

ELE. Grave man, thy grey hairs paint out gravity, Thy counsels wisdom, thy wit policy.

There let us meet, and with a general brain Erect the peace of spirit and of Spain.

ALV. Then will Spain flourish.

ELE. Ay, when it is mine.

ROD. O heavenly meeting!

ELE. We must part in h.e.l.l.

[_Aside._

CHRIS. True peace of joy.

[_Exeunt._

_Manent_ ELEAZAR, PHILIP, _and_ HORTENZO.

ELE. 'Tis a dissembling knell; Farewell, my lords; meet there; so, ha, ha, ha!

[_Draws his rapier._

Now, tragedy, thou minion of the night, Rhamnusia's[77] pew-fellow, to thee I'll sing Upon a harp made of dead Spanish bones, The proudest instrument the world affords; When thou in crimson jollity shalt bathe Thy limbs, as black as mine, in springs of blood Still gushing from the conduit-head of Spain.

To thee, that never blushest, though thy cheeks Are full of blood--O Saint Revenge, to thee I consecrate my murders, all my stabs, My b.l.o.o.d.y labours, tortures, stratagems, The volume of all wounds that wound from me; Mine is the stage, thine is the tragedy.

Where am I now? O, at the prison; true.

Zarack and Balthazar, come hither; see, Survey my library. I study, ha, Whilst you two sleep; marry, 'tis villany.

Here's a good book, Zarack, behold it well, It's deeply written, for 'twas made in h.e.l.l: Now, Balthazar, a better book for thee; But for myself, this, this, the best of all; And therefore do I claim it every day, For fear the readers steal the art away.

Where thou stand'st now, there must Hortenzo hang, Like Tantalus in a maw-eating pang.

There, Balthazar, must Prince Philip stand, Like d.a.m.n'd Prometheus; and to act his part, Shall have a dagger sticking at his heart.

But in my room I'll set the cardinal, And he shall preach repentance to them all.

Ha, ha, ha!

PHIL. d.a.m.nation tickles him; he laughs again.

Philip must stand there, and bleed to death.

Well, villain, I only laugh to see That we shall live to outlaugh him and thee.

ELE. O, fit, fit, fit! stay, a rare jest, rare jest!

Zarack, suppose thou art Hortenzo now; I pray thee stand in pa.s.sion of a pang, To see, by thee, how quaintly he would hang.

HOR. I am Hortenzo; tut, tut, fear not, man; Thou lookest like Zarack.

[_Aside._

ELE. Ay, Hortenzo, He shall hang here, i' faith; come, Zarack, come, And, Balthazar, take thou Philippo's room: First let me see you plac'd.

PHIL. We're plac'd.

ELE. Slaves; ha, ha, ha!

You are but players, that[78] must end the play; How like Hortenzo and Philippo! ha!

Stand my two slaves, were they as black as you.

Well, Zarack, I'll unfix thee first of all, Thou shalt help me to play the cardinal: This iron engine on his head I'll clap, Like a pope's mitre or a cardinal's cap; Then manacle his hands, as thou dost mine; So, so, I pray thee, Zarack, set him free, That both of you may stand and laugh at me.

PHIL. 'Tis fine, i' faith; call in more company; Alvero, Roderigo, and the rest: Who will not laugh at Eleazar's jest?

ELE. What? Zarack, Balthazar!

PHIL. Ah! anon, anon; We have not laugh'd enough: it's but begun.

[_Knocking._

Who knocks?

ELE. Unmanacle my hands, I say.

PHIL. Then shall we mar our mirth, and spoil the play.

[_Knocking again._

Who knocks?

ALV. [_Within._] Alvero.

PHIL. Let Alvero in.

ELE. And let me out.

_Enter all below._

PHIL. I thank you for that flout,[79]

To let Alvero in, and let you out.

ELE. Villains! slaves! am not I your lord, the Moor?

And Eleazar?

QUEEN-M. And the devil of h.e.l.l; And more than that, and Eleazar too.

ELE. And, devil's dam, what do I here with you?

QUEEN-M. My tongue shall torture thee.

ELE. I know thee then; All women's tongues are tortures unto men.

QUEEN-M. Spaniards, this was the villain; this is he Who, through enticements of alluring l.u.s.t And glory, which makes silly women proud And men malicious, did incense my spirit Beyond the limits of a woman's mind To wrong myself and that lord cardinal; And (that which sticks more near unto my blood), He that was nearest to my blood, my son, To dispossess him of his right by wrong: O, that I might embrace him on this breast, Which did enclose him, when he first was born: No greater happiness can heav'n show'r upon Me than to circle in these arms of mine That son, whose royal blood I did defame, To crown with honour an ambitious Moor.

PHIL. Thus then thy happiness is complete;