A TRAGEDY CALLED ALL'S LOST BY LVST.

Written by William Rowley.

Divers times Acted by the Lady Elizabeths SERVANTS. And now lately by her Maiesties Servants, with great applause, at the Phoenix in Drury Lane.

Quod non dant Proceres, Dabit Histrio:

LONDON: ¶ Printed by THOMAS HARPER, 1633.

Dramatis Personae.

  • ROderigo, King of Spaine.
  • Medina, a Duke.
  • Iulianus, a Generall against the Moores: Father to Iacinta.
  • Antonio, a Don, lover of Dionysia, yet husband to Margaretta.
  • Alonzo, a Don, Father to Dionysia:
  • Piamentelli.
  • King of Africa.
  • Moores.
  • Fidella a Moore, wayting-woman to
  • Margaretta.
  • Pedro, an old fellow, Father to Margaretta:
  • Iaques, a simple clownish Gentleman, his sonne, per­sonated by the Poet.
  • Cloveele, a Rusticke:
  • Lothario, a Privado to the King.
  • Lazarello, Minion to Antonio. Cob a Page.
  • Malaena, a Pandresse.

The Argument.

ROderigo, King of Spaine, be­ing deepely enamored upon Ia­cynta, a beautifull yong Spa­nish Lady, daughter to a great Commander in the warres, (called Iulianus) hath often by private solicitations and gifts, tryed to winne her to his embraces; but they not prevailing, hee resolves to enioy her byforce: whilst hee sailes in these lustfull thoughts, Lothario, (a Gentleman of better fortunes than condition) is his Pilot, steering his wickednesse on. To helpe which with winde and weather, Mulymumen, King of Bar­bary, with an Army of 60000. Moores, is rea­dy to crosse into Spaine, to invade Roderigo, who no way frighted, but laying hold on this occa­sion, sends Iulianus as Generall against the Afri­can, and by his two evill Spirits, Lothario and Malaena) gets accesse to the Lady in her Fathers absence, but their Engines breaking, he ravishes her. The Dove being thus ruffled, is delivered out of one Falcons Tallons, to the gripe of another: [Page] Lothario is made her Keeper, whom Iacynta one day finding fast asleepe, takes the keyes of the Ca­stle from him, & flyes to her Father in the Camp; who hearing the storie of the Ravisher, ioynes with those Spanish Lords in his Army, to bee re­venged on the Tyrant: To hasten this vengeance, the African is taken prisoner, and againe set at liberty, with condition that hee shall Rally all his scattered Troopes, and then those two Armies be­ing incorporated in one, to drive Roderigo out of his Kingdome, & to inthrone the Moore there. Mulymumen so likes the ravished Lady, that he begges her of her Father to be his: but Roderi­go flying into Biscany, and the African Lord of all, is scorned by Iacynta, who in revenge, calls for Iulianus (her Father) commanding his eyes to be put out, and her tongue to be cut out, and so to leade him; In the end, the Barbarian to shorten Iulianus his misery, gives him a weapon, the Moore hath another, with intent to runne ful-butt at one another, much intreaty being made to let Iacynta dye nobly, tis promist, and then they both being ready to runne, the Moore snatches Iacynta before him, and so the Father kils his own Daugh­ter, and is presently by the Moore slaine himselfe.

Antonio marries Margaretta, faire, but low [Page] in fortunes, and comming to these warres, fals in love with Dionysia, daughter to Alonzo, but the women come to tragicall ends, and Antonio for upbraiding Iulianus with selling his King and Country to the Moore, is by Iulianus slaine.

Prologue.

THus from the Poet am I bid to say,
He knowes what Iudges sit to doome each Play,
(The over-curious Criticke, or the wise)
The one with squint, t'other with sunne-like eyes,
Shootes through each Scaene: the one cryas all things downe,
T'other hides strangers faults close as his owne.
Las! Those who out of custome come to geere,
(S [...]ng the full quire of the nine Muses here)
So carping, not from wit, but apish spite,
And fetherdignorance, thus our Poet does slight.
T'is not a gay sute, or distorted face,
Can beate his merit off, which has wonne grace
In the full Theater, nor can now feare
The teeth of any snakie whisperer:
But to the white, and sweet unclouded brow,
(The heaven where true worth moves) our Poet does bow;
Patrons of Arts, and Pilots to the Stage,
Who guide it (through all tempests) from the rage
Of envious whirle windes. O doe you but steere
His Muse this day, and bring her tot'h wish'd shore,
You are those Delphicke powers, whom shee'le adore.

ALL'S LOST BY LVST.

Actus Primus.

Enter Rodericke, King of Spaine, Lothario, Medina, Iulianus, Antonio, and Lazarello.
Rodericke.
GIve leave: Lothario.
Afide Lords.
Lo.
My Soveraigne.
Rod.
The newes in briefe: how replyes Iacinta?
Will she be woman? will shee meete our Armes
With an alternate roundure? will she doe?
Lo.
Nothing to the purpose my Liege, cold as Aquarius,
There she was borne, and there she still remaines;
I cannot move her to enter into Pisces, I
Laid the flesh to her too, and the delights thereof, she leanes
Another way, and talkes all of the spirit, I
Frighted her with spirits too, but all would not doe:
[Page]
She drew her knife, pointed it to her breast, swore
She would doe something, but womens tongues are
Sometimes longer then their armes.
Rod.
Enough, we have bethought another way.
This wooing application is too milde:
'Tis better trust the mercy of a storme.
To hast our way, then to be calmd for ever,
Short of the wished haven:
Now draw neere, you told us of a hot invasion▪
The barbarous and tawney Affricans,
Intend upon our confines.
Med.
True, my Liege.
Full threescore thousand are discryde in Armes,
Ready to passe the Streights of Gibbraltar,
Whose watry divisions, their Affricke bounds
[...]om our Christian Europe in Granado,
And Audalusia; they spred and flourish
Their silver moones, led as it is supposde,
By some blinde guide, some Saintish Infidell,
That prophesies subjection of our Spaine,
Vnto the Moores.
Rod.
They would deter us with their swarty lookes:
Were they the same to their similitude,
Sooty as the inhabitants of hell,
Whom they neerest figure; cold feare should flye
From us as distant as they are from beauty:
They come to sacrifice their blouds to us,
If that be red, a m [...]re rubrum,
Wee'le make so high to quench their silver moones;
And on their carkasses an Is [...]mus make
To passe their straytes agen, and forrage there.
Iul.
Your forward valour speakes you maiesticall,
But my dread Liege, does not your treasury
Grow thinne and empty? so long have you held
A champion resolution 'gainst the Turke▪
That Spaine is wasted in her noble strength,
On which presuming, tis to be supp [...]
The Moore is thus incourag'd.
Rod.
[Page]
And yet we undaunted Iulianus, our treasury is
A myne unscarcht, wee have a Castle
Suppos'd inchanted, wee'le breake the magicke,
If spels there be, opethe forbidden dores
Which twenty of our predecessors have refus [...]e,
But added each a locke to guard it more,
Rather then our Souldiers shall want pay
To fight our battailes nobly.
Iul.
O my Lord, that's a dangerous secret, onely known
To such as can divine futurities,
And they with fearefull prophesies predict
Fatallevents to Spaine, when that shall be
Broke up by violence: till fate hath runne
Her owne wasting period; which out staide
Auspitiously they promise, that wreathes are kept
In the fore-dooming Court of destiny,
To binde us ever in a happy conquest.
Rod.
Tut. feare frights us not, nor shall hope foole us
If neede provoke, wee'le dig supply through hell
And her enchantments. Who c [...]n prefixe us
A time to see these incantations loosde?
Perhaps 'twill stay tenne generations more,
When our bloud royall may want succession,
If not; what bootes it us (lost in our dust
And memory 500. yeeres) that then this hidden
Worke shall be; tush, the weakenesse of our predecessors
Shall not fright us, all is not deadly,
That lookes dangerous.
Ant.
I wish no life to see that day.
Med.
Nor I, so many Kings have fear'd that destiny.
Rod.
Lord Iulianus, we commit to you
The charge of this great worke against the Moores,
With title of Lord Generall, as you please,
Order this high affaire; call to the field
An equall Army against those Affricans,
The bold and hardiest souldiers of our kingdome▪
Scourge backe agen th [...]se halfe-nak' [...] Infide [...]s
Into their sun-burnt Clymate; in thy heart
[Page]
Be loyaltie and courage, strength in thine arme:
With christian vaiour strike the heathens dead,
And for thy triumph, bring the Mulyes head.
Iul.
This honour which your Maiestie has given me,
Tho better it might fit anothers wearing,
Of abler limbs, wheretime has not defac't,
Nor halfe so many winters quencht his bloud,
As a new spring it hath revivde ag [...]
This Autumne of my yeeres; there's but one care
I leave behinde me within the Court of Spaine,
My poore Iacinta, mine, and onely mine;
May she here thrive in honour, and in favours,
And I shall meete her with a victory,
(Heaven put before) as shall endow us both
In your high esteeme.
Rod.
That shall be our care noble Iulianus, to see her safe,
We love I [...]cinta more then you must know,
And for her sake we doe remove you hence;
You may thanke your daughter for this honour Sir,
If you knew our purpose.
Lo.
I understand all this, whilst he warres abroad, his
Daughter must skirmish at home; Venus is in conjunction
With Mercury, wit and lechery are both in labour
At once alas poore mayden-head, th'art cast i'faith,
And must to execution; virginity hadst thou bin
Moulded in my compasse, thou hadst scap't this pitfall.
Rod.
On, to thy charge, prosper in thy high deedes;
Who aymes at honour nobly, nobly speedes.
Iul.
My heart and tongue, thus sentence to my fate,
In honour thrive, in basenesse ruinate.
Rod.
All helpe him on his speede: Lothario.
Exeunt omnes nisi Rod. & Loth.
Have we not finely moulded our designe?
Times antient bawde, opportunity attends us now,
And yet our flaming bloud will scarce give leave
To opportunity.
Lo.
I told your highnesse of a second bawd to time, & yet
Not times second neither, for time nere pattern'd her
[Page]
A thing reall, not a dumb morall, as time it selfe
Is, but a speaking thing, and one that speakes
Effectually; one that has wrackt more mayden-heads
In Spaine, then she has yeers upon her reverent browes,
And yet she writes odde of threescore, an odde wench 'tis.
Rod.
Thou nam'st her to me.
Lo.
Malena.
Rod.
And hast instructed her?
Lo.
I have prepar'd her fit for instruction my Liege; shee
Waites her further confirmation from your Highnesse:
Oh every souldier has a double heart, when the King's in field.
Rod.
Call her
Lo.
By her right name; bawd, where art thou bawd?
Rod.
If Words will serve, if not, by rapines force;
Wee'le plucke this apple from th'Hesperides.
Enter Malena.
Lo.
This is the thing I told your Highnesse of.
Rod.

A reverent one it is, & may be cal'd schoolemistresse of her sexe; if Apelles had ever picturde forth experience, here might he take his patterne.

Mal.
Indeed my Liege, I have bin the pattern that a great
Many has taken out pictures by, I confesse I have
Bin a greater friend to the Hospitals, then the Nunneries,
And I thinke it was the greater ch [...]ity, because
They are the poorer, and more wretched places.
Lo.
The very ipsissima of her sexe, my Liege, as old as
She is, I will undertake she shall wrastle a fall
With the strongest Virgin in Spaine, & throw her down too.
Rod.
Thou must be my Lawyer (I'le fee thee well,)
And at the Barre of beauty plead a cause,
Which whether right or wrong, must needs be mine.
Mal.
Indeed in rightfull causes, weake Lawyers will
Serve turne, but the wrong had need have
The best Orators; I'me but a weake vessell, you
Know my Liege.
Lo.
Shee'le hold out I warrant, harke you my Lieg,
[Page]
This vessell is not hollow yet, it does not sound,
There's mettall in her, there's sacke in this Tunne,
That has eaten up a great deale of dead
Flesh in her time, lights, longs and bad livers.
Rod.
Come, come, you must not plead an insufficiency.
Mal
I'le doe my best my Lord.
Lo.
Tush, in malo consilio foeminae vincunt viros.
Mal.
Does he not abuse me my Liege?
Rod.
Not at all, he sayes women overcome men in
Giving counsell.
Mal.
Is there not a faulty word amongst them?
Lo.
Thou art able to corrupt any good sence, with bad construction:
I say foeminae vincunt, that is, quasi vincere cunctos,
Ouercomes all men.
Mal.
Go to, go to, there is a broad word amongst'm, vincunt
Quotha, is it spoke with a K, or a C? but in plaine
Language I will doe my best, if she be of my sexe, I
Will shew her the end of her function, men follow
The traditions of their forefathers, so should
Women follow the trades of their fore-mothers.
Rod.
I see thou hast perswasive oratory.
Here's iuyce of liquorish, good for thy voyce,
Speake freely, and effectually.
Mal.
I will speake the words that have o'rethrowne a
Hundred in my time.
Lo.
I was within compass then.
Mal.
Let me have accesse to her, if she be flesh & bloud,
I'le move her, I will not leave her till I turne her to a stone.
Rod.
Vnite your forces both, conquer in love,
I will reward as for a victory
Purchac't with bloud from my worst enemy:
Effect, for ill things have their effects we see
Prosper, wee'le call it a prosperity.
Exit.
Mal.
You'le bring me to the place and party?
Lo.
Prepar'd with all advantage. I will assist thee, thou
Destroyer of mayden-heads.
Exeunt.
[Page] Enter Antonio, and Lazarello.
Laz.
Your passions erre my Lord, did you foresee
What may ensue; folly begets danger,
Nay oft, their full effects, destruction;
You would not clothe the noblenesse of your bloud
In such base weedes, shee's a beggar you doate on.
Ant.
Th'ast spoke the worst thy malice can invent,
A beggar say'st? and better being so,
If a small Starre could overshine the Sunne,
And shew his brightnesse in the solsticie,
Should it be blam'd or prais'd? the feeble Vine
Brings forth sweet fruits, whilst the Cedars's barren;
Beggar is she, I'le poyse her graces with't,
And see how many infinites shee'le pull
The ballance downe, and yet that poverty
A goodnesse dis-esteem'd, shee's faire,
Modest, lovely, wise, vertuous.
Laz.
Nay, if you doate, I'le waste no more good counsell,
And what's her dower Sir?
Ant.
Infinites, I nam'd them to thee.
Laz.
O shee's faire, a faire dowry.
Ant.
Chast and vertuous.
Laz.
Those are iewels indeed, but they'le yeeld little.
Ant.
They are not things of prise, they are farre off,
And deare, yet Ladies send not for'em.
Laz.
May not a league be taken for a time?
Deferre this hasty match, you have employment
As a Souldier, the King has given you charge,
Approve your champion valour in the field,
If that remoue not this domesticke trouble,
Retire upon your Uenus.
Ant.
I'le prevent that venome,
This night I will be married to my sweet,
And then her memory enjoy'd, shall strengthen
Mine arme against my foe, which else would droope,
Suspecting of her losse, I feare it now;
[Page]
What eye can looke upon her, but is captiv'd
In the inchanted prison of her eyes.
Laz.
Why you'le be jealous in your absence then?
Ant.
Away, away, thou dost forget her vertues
Faster then I can name 'em; shee's chastity
It selfe, and when a Shrine shall be set up
Vnto that Saint, it shall be built upon
The marble that shall cover her.
Enter Iulianus and Iacinta.
Laz.
Here comes the Generall.
Iul.
No more, no more, thy feares are all follies, my Iacinta
Iac.
I must not leave you thus.
Iul.
Antonio? what unplum'd? you are a Souldier Sir,
And Souldiers should be forward; looke yee
I have bright steele for the blacke Affricans;
I tell you Sir, I went not with more ioy
Vnto my mayden Bride, that Hymen night,
From whence I fetcht this iewell of my heart,
Then now I doe unto my second nuptials.
Oh 'tis a gallant Mistresse, an old man
Is young agen at sight of her.
Ant.
Worthy Sir, your leading vallor wil centuple the harts
Of all your followers; when set you forward?
Iul.
Tush, we limit time to her best haste,
Three dayes will be the most, the longer stay
Looses the more advantage.
Ant.
We shall be ready to attend your honour,
Hymen, this night I vow to thee, Mars be my
Morrowes Saint.
Laz.
Here were a Saint fitting your orisons.
Ant.
Blasphemy, speake that no more, the begger,
(If you will so prophane to speake her so)
Is gold refinde, compar'd unto this rubbish,
Diamond to Marble; my noble Lord
Wee'le leave you to hasten our attendance on you.
Exit Ant. & Lazar.
Iul.
[Page]
Farewell Antonio,
I'me in haste too, my preparations call me.
Iac.
I call too, I beseech you heare me.
Iul.
Th'art a clog to me,
Me thinkes thou shouldst be reading o're new fashions,
Conferring with your Tire-woman for faire dressings,
Your Ieweller has new devices for yee,
Fine labels for your eares, bracelets for wrists,
Such as will illustrate your white hand;
These are all Pedlars ware to me, Iacinta;
I am for Corslets, Helmets, Bils, Bowes, and Pikes,
The thundring Guns, Trumpets tan tara,
The ratling sheepeskin, and the whistling Fife:
What Musicke's this to your eares? ha, farewell,
Farewell, and heaven blesse thee.
Iac.
Good heaven, how slightly
You o're-run my feares, you goe to meete
With a full power, an armed foe abroad,
And leave me single to an enemy
That hath both power and will to ruine me.
Iul.
'Tis treason that thou speak'st, and by the Saint
Of Spaine, mend it, or I'le discover thee:
Wrong my dread Liege, my King, my Soveraigne,
To say that he should doate upon your face,
Away, away, 'tis but your beauties pride,
So to belye it selfe thou art not faire,
Thou hast no eye to attract Maiestie,
To looke upon't; say he speake love to thee,
'Twas but to try thee, perhaps 'twas my consent,
Will you enquire the hidden hearts of Kings?
He would not wrong thee for his kingdomes wealth,
Even for my sake, away you wanton foole.
Iac.
There has bin ravishers, remember Tarquin.
Iul.
There has bin chast Ladies, remember Lucres:
I'le heare no more, my time and haste hath bard me,
My blessing take, heaven and that shall guard thee.
Exit.
Iac.
You leave me in a tempest, heaven guide my fate,
Oh let me sinke ere I be captivate.
Exit.
[Page] Enter Pedro, Iaques, and Claveele.
Ped.
I doe not like this match, this gay out-side
Is cloth of gold, within a ragged lining.
Iaq.

O poore comparison father, doe they use to line cloth of gold with cloth of gold; no, but with fine, gentle, and easie linings, and such my sister may be, for tho I say it that should not say it, my sister has a good face, a white necke, and a dainty hand, and that may serve for lining for the best cloth of gold in all Spaine.

Ped.
Cedars and shrubs cannot grow up together.
Iaq.
Away, away, speake not so like a Wood monger, I'le
Put you downe with a caparison now, doe we not use
To graft sweet apples upon crab-tree stocks, doe we
Not use to enoculate your Malicatoon upon a Gooseberry?
Such is my sisters case now, say that the noble man
Would enoculate his Lordship upon my sisters yeomandry,
What hurt were in this? would it grieve you to be a
Lords brother, or this old woman to have her Lady
Daughter to aske, Grauam, how doe you, will you ride
Abroad in your Croarch, or your embroderd side-saddle?
Cla.
I, thou talk'st wildly boy, yet err'st not much
In my conceit, be content man, and adde as meete it is,
Ioy to content, your daughter shal be made a happy woman
By a noble marriage.
Ped.
Happy say'st thou? oh 'tis as distant as the Moon from earth,
And has the like effects, it changes oft,
So with a silver brow, greatnesse lookes on us
Promising and lovely, but once growne full,
It brings swelling billowes to o'rewhelme us.
Iaq.
Pray father talk no more of the moon, but of your son,
Not my selfe that am your son and heire, but of your
Son in law that shall be, my noble L. Antonio, Lord of
Barcelona, and his noble Lady my sister, that shall be.
Ped.

'Twill well become her, what armes shall I give to make her gentle by?

Iaq.
Those we can buy of the Heraulds, you know shee
[Page]
Has cryde Orenges the most of her time here in Ciuill,
Now a fine Orenge for her crest, with Ciuillity
Written round aboud it would speaks wondrous well,
Then a Capon in a Scutchen with a gizard
Vnder his left arme, with his spurs vpon his heeles
Riding vpon a Leman.
Ped.
Away, away
Thy talkes impertinent, what should a Capon
Do with a Leman?
Iaq.
I, you say well Father there indeed,
A Capon desires no Leman, and therefore
Wele hope of both that neither the Lord
Proue himselfe a Capon, nor my Sister a Leman.
Ped.
I, this thou touchest by a forced figure,
The perfect sence of all, thence grows my feare:
This loue was first [...], and borne in lust
How long has he laid an vnlawfull leige
Against her Virgin honour, which had she yeelded,
And beene so lemond, she nere had bin profferd
The stile of wife.
Cla.
Peace, see they come.
Enter Ant. and Margaretta.
Iaq.
I marry, heres a Lady now will weare her owne haire.
Mar.
Nay now no further protestations,
You haue said enough to make me new, or ruine me,
And this my spirit, bids me prophesye
If you repent, as loue might be ore sated
In its best desires; and any croffe euent
Should fall upon this your unequall choise,
Yours is the crime, your handmaid must be blamelesse,
Since you haue sought what I haue not desirde,
And yet, you may avoide the fatall doome
(If any such there be) by throwing backe
Your atchieu'de vassayle.
Ant.
Teach me no errour.
I will not learne it, sweetest, if you do.
[Page]
Speake nothing now but of those holy rytes
Whose sacred hands must guide vs to the path
Of your desired ioyes.
Mar.
Heres all the barre;
When these haue giuen consent I am your owne.
Ant.
It shall be done in this acknowledgement.
Father and mother let me but call you so.
Iaq.
And brother eke also.
Ant.
Yes brother too,
By this I claime them all, your daughter makes
Me your sonne, and yours.
Iaq.
And my brother.
Ant.
Ile not forget that neither.
Iaq.
If you do, I will forget to call your Lady Sister.
Cla.
Sir, I haue question'd all the will in me,
And finde it now resolu'd vnto your wish.
Iaq.
You haue my good will too brother.
Ped.
Mine is wrought out through rocks of doubt and scare,
She is your owne, I send her pilots like
Into an Argosey beyond her sterage.
Ant.
Ile hand the helme with her, and there abide
Safetie, or drowning.
Ped.
She will be hated when the disdainfull browes
Of noble greatnesse shall be shot against her,
The scornes and flowts she shall endure, will be
Fa [...] lesse content, then is the humble quiet she enioyes.
Ant.
All those I will rebuke, and if she blush,
The beauty then will check their painted cheekes
With a rebounding shame vpon themselues,
Let not more obstacles be mention'd,
Onely let priuacie protect vs yet
Altho we scant the full solemnitie
Due to thy wishes; Hymen which afterward.
Shall dare the largest blazon.
Marg.
Call it mine Sir,
And then the smallest ceremony may serue.
All wants, are onely wanting vnto you
To giue your greatnesse the due ornaments.
Ant.
[Page]
Shall your kinde paines prouide vs of a Priest,
Whom my instructions shall direct you to.
Iaq.
Shall I? why who am I pray?
Mar.
Yes, good brother do.
Ant.
O you teach me sweet; yes good brother do.
Ia.
O as a brother I will, I perceiue these great men
Are some what forgetfull of their poore kindred.
Ant.
A Fryer in Saint Austins Monastery
Aske for one Benedicke, my comends to him
Will bring him with thee, hees prepar'd for it.
Ia.
Ile be the Clarke my selfe for the groat sake,
Which you know will arise out of the two and twenty.
Ant.
Tush, Ile treble that wages.
Ia.
Nothing grieves me but this wedding will be so still borne
We shall haue no dancing at it, but Ile foot it
To the Priest howsoeuer, Fala, la, la, la:
Ant.
How ere the kings employment in the wars
Calls on my person, I shall leaue behinde
My selfe in thee, and beare my selfe along
In thy sweet memory.
Mar.
O Sir, you speake of swift diuorce.
Ant.
Rellish to ioy, a breathing from our pleasures,
Come, come, true loue shall tye two hearts in one.
Ped.
O happy proue.

Actus secundus.

Enter Lotharie, and Mal [...]a.
Lo.
COme old reuerence, if euer thou hadst musique in thee,
To inchant a maydenhead, now strike vp.
Mal.
You play well
On the Pandora, Sir I wonder your skill.
Failes to make her dance after it.
Lo.
Tush, I giue thee
The precedence, wire strings will not doote, it must be
A winde instrument thats gouern'd with stopping of holes,
Which thou playest well on, my old Violl de gamb,
Come, thou shalt haue reward.
Ma.
And what pay haue you for pandership,
Lo.
Little or nothing, it comes short of the [...]wd alwaies.
Ma.
A bawd, why whats a [...]awd, pander?
Lo.
Why bawd, Ile tell thee what a bawd i [...].
Mal.
Then pander I will tell thee what a pander is.
Lo.
A bawd [...] a thing that when the deuil plaies at [...], bawd
He turnes vp trump, because shees a helpe.
Mal.
But the pandet playing with the deuill robs the
To make his hand the stronger, and the cards being
The deuils, he makes out a little heart (and thats all
He has) into the stocke.
Lo.
The deuill vyes it with the bawd.
Mal.
The pander being drunke sees the deuill.
Lo.
The deuill playes on, and looses the bawd.
Mal.
And takes away the knaue (which is the pander)
With his fiue finger.
Lo.
And fearing he has not tricks enough
Giues vp his dealing to the bawd, so they shuffle agen.
Mal.
Enough of this game.
Lo.
Well, the maidenhead is
In this enchanted Castle, thou must blow vp,
[Page]
Giue fire old Linstocke, I confesse I am repulst ith van;
If thou failst too the king comes with a murdering piece
In the rere, oh tis a royall seruice.
Mal.
Well, leaue it to me Sir.
Enter Iacinta.
Lo.

She, she sallyes vpon thee, As [...]beus, Corothus, and all the fiends of the flesh

Stand at thine elbow.
Exit Lothario.
Mal.
Blesse ye faire Virgin:
Iac.
From your age with a virgine Epitaph, if you
No better be then I esteeme you.
Mal.
T were pity
Indeed you should be a virgin to my age
Sweet beauty, you woud be like a garment long laid by,
And out of fashion, which tho new, woud not be worth a wearing:
Iac.
Is that your companion
Parted with you?
Mal.
No companion Lady,
But a friend of mine, as I hope he is of yours.
Iac.
Y'are both naught then, and neither friends of mine.
But here you haue me prisoner in your power
If you haue ought to speake to me out with't.
Mal.
Ya're belou'd Lady, and which is more,
Yea most,
Of a king beloude.
Iac.
A good induction;
And all this I may deserue being a loyall subiect.
Mal.
Your loyalty may be mixt with his royalty,
If youle be rulde, vnderstand, kings are not common things,
Nor are their actions common; all things are
Proper, and peculiar vnto them, so Ladies
Whom they loue, are commonly proper Ladies, who being
Proper, cannot be counted common.
I [...].
Tis all
My pride, I'le be accounted proper.
Mal.
Onely to a king.
Iac.
[Page]
And common to all the world besides,
That were grosse.
Mal.
You wrest my meaning virgin, I woud not haue you be
Iac.
A virgin, is not that your meaning?
Mal.
Now you come to me;
Tis true: For what is a virgin? knew you as much
As I youde nere be a virgin.
Iac.
I dare sweare I shoud not.
Mal.
A virgin? why tis as much as to say because
You were borne a childe you shoud euer be so;
This were ridiculous. Virginity,
Why tis a Iewell kept in a Casket,
Which neuer open'd, as good you neuer had it;
Shall muske be alwayes kept in the Cod, how shall
The sweetnesse be tasted then? Virginity is
Like a false friend to you, which indeed is better lost then kept,
Iac.
Out shame of women, thou the falsest art,
Be lost for euer looking on my face,
Or loose those instruments thou lookst withall,
Immodestyes in men are veniall,
When women rebell against their weaker selues.
Out hag, turne thee into some other shape,
Or I shall curse my selfe for being one
Of thy bad sex.
Enter Roderique.
Mal.
Nay, I haue done with you Lady,
If Flags of truce will not serue, you must look
For defiance, and here he comes that brings it with him.
Iac.
All powers of goodnesse guard me.
Rod.
Speake, is she pliant?
Mal.
Stubborn as an Elephants leg, no bending in her,
You know what you haue to do my Leige, trees that
Will not yeeld their fruit by gentle shaking, must
Be climde, and haue it pulde by violence.
Rod.
Giue leaue.
Mal.
I woud she woud giue leaue as soone
[Page]
As I, you shoud not be troubled to [...]ke a duty
From me, I woud fall at your feet my Leige.
Exit.
Rod.
Why turne you from us Lady?
Iac.
O my Leige,
I turne not from your face, but from your power,
You bring a frowne, I dare not looke upon.
Rod.
Your thought [...] instruct you ill, I do not frowne, [...]
But smile vpon you.
Iac.
I craue your pardon, and bebd
My kbee, your true obedient servent, my life
I'le lay an offering at your feet, what more
Woud you from your humble [...]
Rod.
Nothing so much,
But for lesse them eyther, thy love [...]ire virgin.
Iac.
Keeping that name, you have it ever.
Rod.
What name?
Iac.
A virgin, you have my prayers d [...]yly to heaven
For your long soveraignties, your honours health and vi­ctoryes.
Rod.
T'is good, and will you deny your selfe, what you wish
From others? I would atchieve a victory from you.
Iac.
Sir, I am not your foe.
Rod.
Concluded well;
Approue your selfe a friend, the war is love,
Wherein we two must strive make it no warre,
But yeeld it freely.
Iac.
It is not love you seeke;
But an Antipathy as dissonant
As heaven and hell, the musique of the spheares.
Comparde with [...], and the [...] below.
Can lust be cal'd [...]ve, then let men seeke h [...],
For there that [...] diety doth dwell.
Rod.
We come not to dispute of good, and bad,
Do as your sex has done, tast what's forbid,
And then distinguish of the difference,
I come not now to war with eloquence,
Those treaties are all past, if you embrace
Our profferd love, wele pray; or call it lust,
[Page]
If not, we speake a king to you, you muste
Iac.
Will you be a Rauisher?
Rod.
Cal't as you please,
We haue a burning feauer, and the disease
You must lay balsum to.
Iac.
Poyson be it,
A serpentine, and deadly aconite,
Neuer survive to know what you haue done,
But perish in the deed, or ere begun.
Rod.
These blasts are Zephires breath, a gentle galt
When it blows high.
Iac.
Then let my [...] preuaile.
Rod.
The sacrifice of fooles, the proverbs s [...]ne,
None pitties womens [...]res, but Ideots borne.
Iac.
Remember what my Father does for you,
Hees gone to brandish gainst your enemies,
Hees fetching you honour home; while at home
You will dishonour him.
Rod.
My purpose twas,
To send him forth the better to atchieve
My conquest here.
Iac.
Tyranous vnkingly.
Rod.
Tush, I have no eares.
Iac.
Hele be reveng'd.
Rod.
Pitty, not future feares.
Iac.
Help, help, some good hand help:
Rod.
Thers none within thy call.
Iac.
Heaven heares.
Rod.
Tush, tis far of.
Iac.
See heaven, a wicked king, lust staynes his Crowne,
Or strike me dead, or throw a vengeance downe.
Rod.
Tush heaven is deafe, and hell laughs at thy crye.
Iac.
Be cursed in the act, and cursed dye.
Rod.
Ile stop the rest within thee.
Exit dragging her.
[Page] Enter Iuli [...], Medi [...], Anto [...]i [...], Lezarello.
Iul.
Not the messenger returned from the Castle
With answer from Al [...]z [...]?
Enter Alons [...] and Di [...]nisia.
Med.
See my Lord, they come together.
Alon.
Noble Iuli [...]us, the dignity of generall
You weare, be with your valour individuall,
Till we haue made it triple by our conquests,
Then let that threefold one, imp [...]le your browes,
And beare it to king Rod [...] in triumph.
Iul.
Worthy Al [...]za you must helpe your wishes
Ere they can take effect, your approved arme
Will be a good assistant, but I pray Sir,
How have you kept your Castle so unbruis'd?
Th [...] foe not far distant, have you not tane
Nor given? no sallying forth, no buffetting?
Alon.
My Lord, we have beene yet as quiet as in league,
Which makes me guesse their number is not full,
They have not yet, unlesse with grim aspects
So much as frighted this my tender daughter.
Di [...].
Tender father, I pray let not your pitty disparadge me,
I have seene a sword whipt out starke naked in my time,
And never squeakt; Do you thinke a Sarazi [...]s head,
Or a Blackamoores face can affright me, let me then
Be afraid of every chimney sweeper.
Iul.
Good spirit yffaith;
Even such a souldier have I left behinde,
I had much adoe to keepe her from the field,
Poore Iaci [...]a, had I knowne such a sworne sister for her
I shoud almost have given her leave.
Alon.
I'le tell you Sir,
Were there a band of buskind Amazons
That would tucke up their skirts, and strike indeed
My girle shoud weare bright Menalipp [...]s belt
[Page]
She shoud be formost; and I'le venture her.
Laz.
Is she such a striker, my Lord?
Dio.
All at head,
No where else, beleeve me Sir, we hold it base.
To strike below the wast.
Laz.
You fight high Lady.
Ant.
So she does at heart I thinke,
Iul.
So, so, to her batchelloure,
Antonio, L [...]zarelle, M [...]di [...], Come Al [...]z [...],
You and I must [...] more seriously upon our war intend­munts.
Laz.
The generall wrongs you to call you batchellour, Antonio.
Ant.
Woud he did not wrong me.
Laz.
Have not you a Cord [...]ke
A heart fever now, [...] Do you thinke there is
A Phenix now, is there but one good face
In the world?
Ant.
I see nothing in her face,
Prethee attempt to make her speake agen.
Laz.
Her tongue? nay if you like her tongue, you must needs
Like her tayle, for the one utter [...] the other [...] Lady
What would you give now for Moores heads by the dozen?
Dio.
I would buy by the score Sir.
Laz.
And what a score then?
Dio.
Chalke best for the score, every alewife knows that.
Laz.
You talke of chalke, and I o [...]cheefe.
Dio.
Hees in the last dish, pray take him away here.
Laz.
I have not done yet, will you buy any ware of me?
Dio.
What? proffer'd ware [...]oh.
Ant.
Give o're, thou wilt be foyl'd else.
Laza.
Why, heres a wench now, I had rather Ile with her
Witt, then with the best piece of flesh in Christendome,
I could beget young Mercuries on her, with
The very conceit: would you had had a good paire
Of eyes in your head.
Ant.
They are false glasses, and will
Deceive me.
[Page] Enter a Scout.
My Lords to armes, the foe discover'd,
Marching amaine upon you.
Iul.
We are in readinesse, our Councels broke,
Advice must be all blows, Ladie to your hold,
And at advantage, see what these youths will do;
To gaine your love, nobly for Spaine speake dru [...],
And if they call, answer for us, they come.
Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter Mully M [...] King of the Moores.
Mull.
Descend thy spheare, thou burning Diety,
Haste from our shame, go blushing to thy bed,
Thy sonnes we are, thou ouerlasting b [...]ll,
Yet never shamde these our impressive brows
Till now; we that are stampt with thine owne seale,
Which the whole ocean cannot wash away [...]
Shall those cold [...]gue cheeks that nature moulds
Within her winter shop, those smoothe white [...]kins,
That with a p [...]lsey hand she paint [...] the li [...]bes,
Make us recoyle.
Enter Z [...]
Zac.
Great Mully [...] haste,
Either give heart to our retyring troupe
By a fresh onset, or haste to saftie by
Flight and basenesse: B [...] slaine,
Mull.
Where's our brother Mahu Mahomet?
Zac.
Rounded with danger,
Where he behaves himselfe nobly Haldi [...]ay,
E [...]ser, and fiue Alchaides more are gone
Vp to his rescue, and if not more he dies.
Or is captiv'de.
Mull:
Wele partake either or both with him,
They are both noble, but too [...]sely fli [...]
[Page]
Is to preserve life, and let honour die.
Fall then my flesh, so there survive my name,
Who flies from honour, followes after shame.
Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter Iulianus, Antonio, and Al [...]z [...].
Iul.
Antonio, now by the Saint of Spaine
You haue made your selfe remarkable to day,
Valour, exceeding valour, was not lookt for
Which you have showne to day.
Al [...]n.
So nobly Sir, that I could wish my daughter
Were in love with you, and your vertues; would you
Requite it, her dowry should be 50 thousand crownes,
More then I ever meant it.
Ant.
O heart, thou speak'st too late.
My Lords your praises, and your noble wishes
Makes me esteeme my selfe behinde hand with same
Heres yet more worke to do.
Iul.
One Mully we have tane,
If Mumen flie not, hees his fellow-captive.
Ant.
There my new fortunes shall their honour prove,
Then fare well war, next wele war faire with love.
Exeunt.
Alarum, Ex [...]rsions. Enter Iuli [...] and Medina, with two prisoners.
Iul.
Medina, post to king Roderiqus, do thus and thus,
Tell our royall Master what worke we have done him:
You see and know, and it neede no relation,
Here are royall prisoners.
Moores.
How will you use us?
Iul.
As in captivity we wish our selves.
Amb.
May we not be ransomde?
Iul.
As from the king
We shall receive: as his pleasure returnes us,
Meane time you shall have cause to blame
Your fortunes, not your conq [...]ours, where's [...]
[Page]
The best deserver of this dayes honour.
Med.
Retirde to his tent.
Iul.
Not wounded, is her
Med.
No my Lord, but weary.
Iul.
So we are all,
Now we have time to rest, and get new breath,
We conquer to the life, and not to death.
Exeunt.
Enter Antonio reading a letter, Lazarello.
Laza.
Now Antonio, where's Margaretta now?
Ant.
Here.
Laza.
Whose that in your hand then?
Ant.
I know not, looke, tis gone.
Laz.
Fie, youle take it up againe, come, come, sl [...]ope,
This is Dio [...] characte [...]: a hand worth your heart,
Peruse it better, so, so, tis well.
Ladies faire hands must not be rejected so,
I did foresee this dangerous relapse,
You are in love.
Ant.
With Marg [...].
Laz.
With Di [...]
Nor do you shame it, rather cherish it.
It is a choise [...]ing your high bloud;
What you have done, make [...] as a say
Vnto your best desires.
Aut.
O Lazarello!
Thou giv'st me poyson to recure a wound
Already mortall.
Laz.
Why this is speedlesse haste,
I know your sated pleasures would throw up
Their over-cloyde receit, you have beene noble
In your brave deeds of armes; who shall [...] it,
Your beggars issue? they are Antipathies,
How would it sound to heare poore Margaret say
Her Lord hath brought home honour from the warres:
T'woud staine your worth to be so vainly boasted.
No, this Lady would multiply your praises with her phrase,
[Page]
Lest Dionisa say that her Antonio
Won the palme of victory, then y'are thronde,
And musique gracing the solemnitie.
Ant.
One word confutes thee, ever into silence,
I am married.
Laz.
A mistake in private, who knows that?
Ant.
Margaretta,
And my selfe, besides a thousand witnesses within
Laz.
Quit you those, and who dares speake it else?
Ant.
Who dares not speake a truth.
La.
Dares not, who dares?
What danger is more great then to speake truth?
If poore ones durst speake plaine of great mens faults,
There needed no libelling.
Ant.
I'le ch [...]ke freedome;
Oh what a bed of [...] struggle within me.
La.
Tush, they are but wormes, and I'le give thee seed and reasons
To destroy'em; yo'are married.
Ant.
A good physitian;
Thou kill'st me quickly to haste me out of paine.
La.
Tush, I must first draw the corruption forth,
And then apply the healing medi [...].
Ant.
Perswade me to turne Turk, or Mo [...] Mahometan,
For by the lustfull lawes of M [...]
I may have three wives more.
La.
And concubines besides; turne Moore?
Do you expect such counsell from your friend?
Wrong me not so, I'le shew you a Christian way
At least a way dispenc'd with Christians,
Say you distaste your [...]. as well you may,
When truth shall be [...] ▪ and shame walke by,
Bearing a blushing [...] to light them both,
Mend then the cause before it take effect,
Annihillate your [...] that [...] cause,
Tis private yet, let it [...]:
Allow your [...] [...],
She may be [...] to [...]
[Page]
To embrac [...] you, say she be call'd your whore
For some thing that may breed from what is done,
Better her shame then yours; a common thing:
Poore beauti [...] are proud of noble bas [...]ardie.
Ant.
Fearfull counsell.
La.
Does your Margaret love you?
Ant.
Beyond her life.
La.
Good, marry Di [...], griefe kills her, then are you a widower.
Ant.
Horrible murther, twere lesse [...]
To kill at once, then by a ling [...]ing po [...]son.
La.
Ha? poyson? what white devill pr [...]pted that?
Poyson, brave, the very change of friendship, the triall
Of a friend [...] love to death, would you [...] sure
Of a friends constancy, a swift poyson will strike it dead.
And [...] the [...] way and [...] be [...]
Even in the [...] of love, [...], I dri [...] to you,
Or accept these gloves, the [...], the touch, the sight,
Tush, any sence will take it kindly.
Ant.
I'le heare nomore from thee thou studiest to make worse
A positive bad, by a vilde perfor [...].
Enter Di [...].
La.
Ha?
Looke yonder, there's an eye speaker [...]
In very silence, where's poore Marg [...] now.
Ant.
Oh my [...].
[...].
Looke upon that face; well, y'are my friend,
And by that [...] loves [...]not, had I that face
But in reversion after your decease,
I thinke I should give you physicke fort.
D [...].
Worthy Sir,
My noble father intreats some words with you.
Ant.
A happy messenges in [...] to him,
How shall I quit your [...]
D [...].
I'le take my travell sort Sir.
[...].
Tis too little.
Di [...].
I [...] it too much Sir,
[Page]
For I was loth to have travellde thus farre, had not
Obedience tide me toot.
Ant.
Y'are too quicke.
Dio.
Too quicke Sir, why what occasion have I given you
To wish me dead?
Ant.
I cannot keepe this pace with you, Lady,
I'le go speake with your father.
Dio.
I pray stay Sir, I'le speake with you my selfe.
Ant.
Before your father.
Dio.
No, here in private by your selfe.
La.
I'le stop my eares, Madam.
Dio.
Why, are they running away from your head Sir?
Laz.
I meane I'le seale them up from hearing, Lady.
Dio.
You may, no doubt they have w [...]x [...]'their owne.
Ant.
Venture thy [...] no f [...]ther good [...],
She will endanger 'em, but Lady now I thinke on
Speake, is not this your hand?
D [...].
I have three then it should seeme,
For I have two of my owne fingring.
Ant.
This is your letter?
Dio.
You know my minde then by this time.
Ant.
If I may be your expositor, Lady, I thinke I do.
Dio.
And how do you expound me Sir?
Ant.
Kinde and loving.
Dio.
Kinde and loving▪ t'were a good commendations
For a sow and her pigs.
Ant.
You aske me the reason why I enquirde your age of your [...]her.
Dio.
Tis true Sir, for what have you to do [...]ith my age?
Ant.
I'de rather have to do with your youth Lady.
Dio.
Who, my page?
Ant.
Fye Madam, y'are too apprehensive, too dexterious,
Your wit has two edges I pr [...]st.
Dio.
What a cut would that giue to a [...] crowne.
Ant.
My crowne itches not [...], [...].
Dio.
Yet you may scratch it though.
Ant.
Come, come, your wits a good one, do not [...] it.
Dio.
Vnlesse it remove [...] of my [...],
[Page]
For I must tire that.
Ant.
I thinke you love me.
Dio.
You and I may be of two opinion [...],
I thinke not so now.
Ant.
Come, your hand has betraid you,
Do not you plainly say here, we two should be well matcht?
Dio.
[...]O strange, he steals halfe a text to uphold
His heresie; but what follows, we should be well matcht
At a game of shittlecocke, the meaning i [...],
For a couple of light headed things we could not be over matcht;
He might have conceited that that could have but said
B to a battleder: but come Sir, you have said
Enough to me, will you go speake with my father?
Ant.
This I'le adde first, which I'le avouch unto
Your fathers face, I love you.
Dio.
This I'le confirme to you,
And to my fathers face, but I'le not promise you,
Whether I blush or no, I do not hate you.
Ant.
I'le follow you, yet give me leave ere you go
To give a gratitude unto your lip.
Dio.
My lips do not stand in the high way to beg
A charity, as open as they appeare to you.
You'le follow me Sir.
Ant.
I cannot stay long after.
Dio.
Soft I'me in your debt Sir, did you bestow a kisse on me?
Ant.
I did so farre presume.
Dio.
Take it againe—
So now I am out of your debt, hereafter never feare
To lend freely to one that payes so willingly.
Exit.
Laz.
Now Sir, what do you do?
Ant.
I am dissolving an Enigma.
La.
Let me helpe you, what ist.
Ant.
I would saine know
What kinde of thing a mans heart is.
Laz.
Were you never
At Barbar Surgeons hall to see [...] dissection?
I'le report it to you, tis a thing framde
With diver [...] corners, and into every corner
[Page]
A man may entertaine a friend, there came
The proverbe, a man may love one well, and yet
Retaine a friend in a corner.
Ant.
Tush, tis not
The reall heart, but the unseene faculties.
Laz.
Those I'le decipher unto you, for surely
The most part are but ciphers; the heart indeed.
For the most part doth keepe a better guest
Then himselfe in him, that is the soule: now the soule
Being a tree, there are divers branches spreading out of it,
As loving affection, suffering sorrowes, and the like,
Then Sir, these affections, or sorrowes, being but branches,
Are sometimes lopt off, or of themselves wither,
And new s [...]oot in their roomes. As for example;
Your friend dies, there appeares sorrow, but it quickly
Withers, then is that branch gone, Againe you love a friend,
There affection springs forth, at last you distaste,
Then that branch withers againe, and another bud [...]
In his roome, shall I give you history to this morall?
Ant.
No, I can doot my selfe, oh M [...]rg [...]att [...].
La.
So shees in the vocative case already, if she slide.
Into the ablative, shees thrush quite out of the numbers
Ant.
I am lost Lazarell [...].
La.
I shall finde you againe
In D [...]is [...]es armes.
Ant.
Must I backe slide.
La:
If you can finde in your heart, you must.
Ant.
My hearts
A rebell to me.
La.
Faith all your body
Will be accessary toot, I'me a friend.
Come, come, league with your thoughts, you are too nice.
Ant.
How ill thou speakest of good, how good of [...]?
Tis now concluded in me, I will on,
I must, although I meet destruction.
Downe hill we run, [...] a [...]low [...]
Easie discents to hell, [...].
[...].

Actus tertius.

Enter L [...]th [...]i [...], and I [...]centa.
Lo.
QViet your tongue, or I'le take away your liberty,
Know y'are under me, and my command.
Iac.
Quiet my tongue? [...]rt officer of hell!
Thou Iaylor to the devill, fleshly fiend,
I'le waken heaven and earth with my exclaimes,
Astonish hell for feare, the fire be doubled
In the due vengeance of my hainous wrong,
My heavy hainous wrong.
Lo.
Forbeare I say: you are a crack virgin,
And I'le bestow the widowe almes on you
In charity, if you not hold your tongue.
Iac.
Worst of humanity, hold thou thy tongue,
Shame thou to speake, my shame enforceth me.
Lo.
Come, come, my li [...]le (what shall I call thee)
For it is now doubtfull what thou art; being neither
Maide, wife, nor (saving your reverence) widow.
Ha? Doest spit at me? I'le have you spitted for this tricke,
Spi [...] at him.
And I will turne you as you see, and moreover
I will hast you.
Iac.
O that I could spit out the spiders bladder,
Or the roads intrals into thee, to take part
And mixe with the diseases that thou hearst,
And altogether choke thee, or that my tongue
Were pointed with a [...]y Pyramis
To strike thee through, thou bundle of diseases,
This store-house of some shaggy meteor,
Some bl [...]ing fire shon o're thy [...] birth,
And laid up all her sad effects in that,
Gout [...], aches, dropsies, and a hundred more,
For were not [...] to [...],
Thy owne soule [...] would strangle thee.
Lo.
[Page]
Thou art a looser, and I do consider it,
Thou hast lost a maydenhead, a shrewd cracke:
A flaw that will hardly be soaderd againe;
Some there be that can passe away these counterseits.
For currant, as brasse money may be taken
For silver, yet it can never be the same,
Nor restorde to his first purity, this I consider.
And beare, (but presume not too much to trouble
The poole of my patience, it may rise soule) it may.
Iac.
O that thine eyes were worth the plucking out,
Or thy base heart, the labour I should take
In rending up thy bosome, I should but ope
A vaule to poyson me (detested wretch)
The hangmans man, basest degree of basenesse,
Thou liv'st upon the lees and dregs of lust,
Thy soule is a hyrde hackney towards hell.
O Iulianus, my much honour'd father,
How is thy simple faith deluded now!
Thou hadst not so much thought of ill in thee,
To breede a bad opinion of a villaine,
Tyrant, and ravisher; whilst thou art winning
Renowne and honour from Spaines enemies,
Spaine has dishonour'd and imprisoned me:
Thou understandst not this, unlesse the windes
Vpon their fleeting convey heare it thee,
Some gentle vision tell thee in thy sleepes,
And heaven instruct thee with a waking faith,
True to beleeve thy slumbers; boyle out my bloud,
And at the briney limbecke of mine eyes
Distill my faculties; alone I'le tell
My sorrowes unto heaven, my curse to hell.
And there [...] mixe that wretch, from thence they rise,
Oh whilst I looke on him, I loath mine eyes.
Exit.
Lo.
But that I have some kinder purpose, I would not
Be thus baited: I am given to the [...] as well
As the king my Master, I have some hope to [...]fte
This dish after him; but tis yet too hot for me,
It will coole, and then I will draw my [...], [...] have
[Page]
A flash at it: this womans two edgde tongue,
And this burthen of flesh that I beare about me,
Hath made me so heavy, I must take a [...]p.
Cob, boy, Cob, page.
Enter Page.
Cob.
Here Sir.
Lo.
There is some thing gone
Into my eares, that troubles my braine, blow in
Some musique to fetch it out againe.
Cob.
The best I can, my Lord.
Lo.
And hearke you, having done, ascend the Turret
And see if you can discover his Maiesty
Comming to the Castle: this house he appointed
For his recreation, if you do, descend,
And give me [...]rning.
C [...].
I will.
A song wit him. [...] fslls asleepe.
Enter Cob.
So I have luld my Lord asleepe,
I see he takes my musique hearily,
Therefore I'le sing no more: now to my Turret
To see if the king come, now he may take him napping.
Exit.
Enter Iac [...]a.
Iao.
There is no resting place within a prison
To make my sorrows lesse by recounting.
I throw 'um forth, but empty none [...] all;
Ha, asleepe? I, security can sleepe,
Griefes a true watchman: how the d [...]
Th [...] [...]ell within hi [...], and what a [...] noise
Th [...]
I could with h [...] office [...]
But I have better tho [...] may give me
My release [...]
[Page]
Of better release, no, I will not delay it,
I will keepe backe my sinnes from multitudes,
And I may flie for safety to my father.
Theres divers wayes, heaven instruct the privat'st.
And best for my escape: fare ill, not well,
Thou and thy lustfull Master: from all but one,
This key now frees me, O! that I beare about,
Which none but mercies key can deliver out.
Exit I [...].
E [...] Cob.
Cob.
My Lord, I spie the king comming pri [...]ely
By himselfe, my Lord, one were as good attempt
To wake a watchman at three a clocke in the morning,
My Lord, lend me your keyes if you'le not [...] your selfe:
Me thinkes he should wake himselfe with [...], but [...] may be
The more noise makes him sleepe the sounder; the best is,
I take it, the king has a private key to let in himselfe;
If he have, he will do his own work himselfe, and my Lord
For this time shall be an innocent pander,
In this act of sleepe a harmlesse husband may be so
To his owne wife, Tis as I guest, he is come
In of himselfe.
Enter Roderique.
Rod.
Where's your Master?
Cob.
H [...]s h [...]
In his private meditation [...], my L [...]i [...].
Rod.
He was ever heavie, where's [...]?
Cob.
Safe enough,
My Leige, she [...] my Lord into these [...]
With the very musique of her tongue, but they [...] all dis­co [...]d [...].
Rod.
Command h [...] [...], her father [...],
He has a noble fortune to [...]ing [...]
Conquest and royall [...], I [...] not well
Requite him: therefore I [...]
[Page]
What I returne, how the villaine snores!
Sleepe on Sir, your sinne will be the lesse, in being
My b [...]wd. Now where is she?
Enter Cob.
Cob.
Alas my Lord,
I have beene—.
Rod.
Beene impe, where have you beene?
Cob.
Seeking about all the corners in the Castle
For Iacinta.
Rod.
Why, is she to seeke slave?
Cob.
I can neither heare nor see her any where.
Rod.
Rogue, thou neither feest, nor he [...]r'st more if I see not her:
Cob.
I'le go seeke better, my L [...]ige, I doubt some leger­demaine,
But if I finde not her within, I know the way out.
Exit.
Rod.
You dormouse, baby of fifty, bundle of security,
Awake Rogue, pocks of your heavy flesh, hast thou no soule?
Lo.
Mynnion, I'le clog your heeles with irons for this,
Will you not let me rest by you?
Rod.
Mischiefe ope your eye-lid [...] blocke, image.
Lo.
I will tell the king, and he shall tickle you for this.
Rod.
Sir death, I'le tickle you for this, [...]oggerhead, where' [...] I [...]?
Lo.
O my Leige, is it your Mai [...]sty, I beseech you par­don me:
These after dinner-n [...] are the rep [...]sts to my body.
Rod.
Diseases devoure your body, where' [...] I [...]?
Lo.
Safe, safe, my Leige, my k [...]y [...]s, wh [...]r [...] he my keyes,
Saw you my keyes, my [...].
Rod.
Confirmde, [...]he has the keyes, and is fled the castle,
Dog, hell-hound, thou shalt be my [...], sl [...]
I'le drag this [...]ull [...] into his [...].
Lo.
Nay but my [...].
And the [...] I [...]old [...] by [...]
[Page]
When I went to sleepe, and my first dreame told me
They were there still. My boy, my Cob, saw you my Cob, my Leige?
Rod.
Dogs worry you both; search slave in every angle,
Send pursuite after her, if thou returnst her not,
Thou shalt curse thy being.
Lo.
If she be not above steeples,
Nor beneath hell, I'le finde her, for so high
And low I can reach and dive, as heavy as I am.
Exit.
Rod.
If she escape us, and once reach her father,
Now in his height of honour, we know not how
He may receive his wrongs, nor the event;
We will command him distant from the Court,
And his prisoners sent to us; And this shall ha [...]e
Before her possible speed, if she scape:
Wele threaten his heads losse, if he deny 'um,
Those that do wrong, had need keepe safety by 'um.
Exit.
Enter Marg [...] and Fydella the Moore.
Mar.
O that some striking aire had blasted me
Before this poyson entred at mine cares;
Married?
Fy.
Madam, sweet Madam.
Mar.
Madam! prethee mock me not, nor gard my folly
With such a linsie wolsie ornament.
Madam, is the mad dame, and thence mad woman:
Define it so and I will borrow still
That little of my store. A coat of tissue
If a foole weares it, is but a fooles coat.
Such are my trappings; oh for t [...]me thats gone,
Equality, oh sweet equality,
Borne under Libra, thou hast both right hands,
Without advantage, or priority.
Base ones made big by beauty are but slaves,
Their Lords nere truly bed but in their graves.
Hai a dangerous conceit, call my brother, Fid [...]lla.
Fy.
Then let me councell you, know hees open,
[Page]
Plaine, and rusticall, and alterd from his first condition,
What ever your purpose is, let it not appeare to him.
Mar.
Prethee be gone, and call him.
Am I despis'd so soone? wedlocke uniust,
Vnequall nuptials are not love, but lust:
Come backe past time, oh tis a fruitlesse call,
I may repent, but finde no helpe at all.
Now I forestall thee heaven ere I begin,
Forgive me, I must act some a heinous sinne,
I must now be changde.
Enter Clowne, and Fydella.
Clo. Ia.
Lady sister, did your Madamship
Send for my worship?
Mar.
I did send for you brother.
Iai
You may intreat me.
Mar.
I hope so, I have a letter
To my Lord (brother) containing so much love
And secresie; as I would trust none willingly
But your selfe for the delivery.
Ia.
A letter sister!
I would not have you to take me for a Carrier,
Or a Porter to carry words, or letters more
Then it pleases me; yet in the way of a Nuntius,
Partly Embassadour, or so, I will
Travell for your sake.
Mar.
Looke you, this is all, brother.
Ia.
Is this all sister?
Mar.
Vnlesse youle adde another:
Commends by word of mouth▪
Ia.
By word of mouth?
Twas not well spoken sister.
Mar.
Why brother?
Iay.
Why what words are there, but words of the mouth?
Except it be words of the tayle, which would sound but il [...]
In my Lord brothers cares: for words behinde
A mans backe are but winde, you know that.
Mar.
[Page]
But be most carefull in the delivery, I entreat you brother;
You know our wedding is onely knowne to us,
A thing conceald from wide mouthd rumour, then should you
Find him in company with Nobles of his own rank.
Iaq.
Tush, I can smell the rankest of them all.
Mar.
Say amongst Ladies you shoud find him sporting
Dancing, kissing, or any such like wantonnesse,
Take heed your rude approach does not move him to any di [...]ste.
Iaq.
O my nowne sister, my nose is a little more a kin to you
Now then ever it was; you woud have me be an informer
Of unlawfull games, as Ticktack, whipper ginny, in & in.
Mar.
No trust me brother, onely to instruct you I speak;
For the least disparagement should chance to him
His pleasure forbidding it, would be a death to me,
Iaq.
Well sister, heres my hand, and my heart is some where
Here about me too, but I'de be loath to bring him
Forth to witnesse, but I will be very carefull.
Mar.
You undo me else brother.
Iaq.
Pha, d'e thinke me for
A foole or your brother (sister)
Mar.
Do not thinke
But at your returne I shall be very thankfull.
Iaq.

As for that, it is sufficient your Ladiship is my sister; oh ye little amiable rogue you, a good face is a good dowry, I see sometimes; when we two tumbled both in a belly together, little did our mother thinke which should have beene the Madam; I might have beene cut the tother way iffaith, if it had pleased the sisters three, if the Mid­wife had but knowne my minde when I was borne, I had beene two stone lighter; but much good do thee with thy good fortunes; farewell honourable flesh and bloud, I will deliver to my noble brother, pretty trim Lady, I thinke we are eyde alike; fare thee well, I cannot chuse but see thee as long as I look [...] upon thee.

Exit.
Mar.
[Page]
Effect thy owne content, paper and inke,
And then thou bringst the worke into my hands.
Fudella.
Fud.
Madam.
Mar.
Thou louest me Fudella.
Fud.
Do you make a question ont Lady?
Mar.
No, I rather
Speake it as acknowledgement, suppose I went
In the right noble way, to meet my foe
I'th field, woudst be my second.
Fud.
To my second life, Madam.
Mar.
I do [...]ntend no such viragoes part,
But in shape, a danger to thee farre more worse,
But when tis done, the spatious world shall have to under­stand,
Spite of the low condition of my birth,
High spirits may be lodg'd in humble earth.
Exeunt.
Enter Di [...] and Anthonie.
Dio.
Sad still!
Ant.
I am as I was ever Lady,
Full of retyred thoughts.
Dio.
You draw these backward
Should be comming on, and meet in nuptiall pleasures.
Ant.
All strive to be their owne Physitians (Lady)
We know whats best and fittest to be done,
But who can follow it?
Dio.
Till the disease be knowne
In vaine it were to study remedy,
Pray whats your cause of sadnesse?
Ant.
I have none, Lady.
Dio.
Why are you not merry then?
Ant.
You must finde fault with my complexion for't,
Nature, perhaps, has not compounded me
Of equall portions; yet you discover
Diseases outward, I not feele within,
Me thinkes I'me merry.
Dio.
No, I have heard you sigh so violent,
[Page]
They have wak't my slumbers with you in bed,
One gust following another, as you woud breath
Out all your aire together, there most be cause.
Ant.
I know not how to win your good beliefe, Lady,
But if youle trust me; Lazarello come hither.
Enter Clowne.
Iaq.

A murrin o the carrier brought me hither, I shall sit the worse this two dayes, but I thinke I have requited his sides for't; Now to my letter, pat yffaith, here's my noble brother; hum, I have a pestilent Lady to my sister, she told me I should finde him amongst Ladies; if she had said Lady she had guest singular well yffaith, I will carry it as well as I can for my honourable brothers credit.

Dio.
Fie, that's a lame excuse, you won not honour
Equall with your will, my selfe from the Castle saw you,
Most nobly do, I saw you unhorse three brave opposers,
You kild and captiv'd many enemies.
Laz:
Nay now sweet Lady
You make too strict an inquisition,
Men emulate in honour for the best.
Who woud be second that can formost [...]
For this a man may wrangle with [...] fate,
And grieve and envy at anothers fortunes.
Iaq.
Hum, hum, hum.
Laz.
See you you fellow.
Ant.
Waft him hence good Lazarell [...], I am undone else,
Looke here Dionisia, here's a iewell,
I never shewed thee yet.
Dio.
Tis a very pretty one,
Shall I have it?
Ant.
With all my heart sweet.
Iaq.
He gives me ayme, I am three bow [...] too short,
I'le come up nearer next time.
Dio.
When does the Army
March hence, Antonio?
Ant.
[Page]
Some three dayes hence.
I must prepare to go:
Dio.
I'le go with you Antonio.
Ant.
By no meanes sweet, I'le send for thee
With more harmonious musique.
Dio.
Indeed I must.
Ant.
Come, come, indeed you shall not.
Laz.
He wonnot off Sir.
Ant.
A mischiefe carry him.
Iaq.
No! shall I have no notice taken of me!
I'le begin in another tone with you. Hum, hum, hum,
Sings.
There was a Nobleman of Spaine, Lady, Lady,
That went abroad, and came not againe
To his poore Lady.
Oh cruell age, when one proud brother, Lady, Lady,
Shall scorne to looke upon another,
Of his poore Lady.
Dio.
How now, what fellow's this?
Iaq.
No mans fellow here, Lady, yet a good fellow too
In place where.
Laz.
Who! this fellow, Lady! he that knows not him,
Knows not a man of mirth, this Doctor I tell you
Gives as good cure for the melancholy.
As the best Emperick in Spaine, what ere he be.
Dio.
I woud he woud practise on Antonio then.
Laz.
Troth Madam tis a good plot, please you to walke
I'le man you to the Castle, leave them together,
Tis an equall match, if he make him not merry,
Heele most terribly trouble his melancholly.
Ant.
Heele make me more sad I feare.
Dio.
I had rather stay and partake some mirth.
Iaq.

I am no womans foole (sweet Lady) tis two trades in Sivill; as your mans Taylor, and your womans Taylor: So your Lords foole, and your Ladies [...]oole, I am for the tongue, not for the bauble.

Di [...].
Well Antonio, I'le leave you, and sirra make him merry,
And I'le reward thee:
Iaq.
If I cannot make him merrie, I know who can.
Dio.
[Page]
Who I prethee?
Ant.
T will out.
Iaq.
Why my—you can Lady.
Dio.
Now you iest too broad sirra.
Iaq.
That's womans iesting, Madam.
Exit Laz. and Dio.
Ant.
I was afraid he woud have namde his sister.
Iaq.
I will make bold to be cover'd, brother thou knowest
Ant.
Oh brother.
Iaq.

Looke thee theres black and white for thee from the little honourable ra [...]all my sister, and a thousand com­mendations too without booke, which I was bid to tell thee by roat, if thou canst reade and heare all at once.

Ant.

Yes I can.

Iaq.

Theres honourable bones a breeding, my sister is the peevishest piece of Ladies flesh growne of late, we have good sport at it to see her vexe and fret, she boxes me as familiarly as if I were her Cobler, for talking to her, an un­naturall varlet, to strike her owne flesh and bloud, but I beare with her for thy sake.

Ant.

I thanke you fort, brother.

Iaq.

Nay, she cuts her lace, and eats raw fruit too, what sallet do you thinke she long'd for tother day?

Ant.

I know not:

Iaq.

For a what doe call 'um? those long upright things that grow a yard above the ground; oh Cuckow pintle roots, but I got her her belly full at last.

Ant.

So twas well.

Iaq.

But the best lest was, she bit her shoomaker by the eare as he was drawing on her shoes; and another time her Taylor for girding her too straight, he had a long nose, but she did so pinch his bill; what, hast thou good newes bro­ther?

Ant.

Very good brother, all I reade are well.

Iaq.

Yes faith brother, we are in health, and drinke to thine sometimes.

Ant.

Brother, I woud have your swift returne.

Iaq.
[Page]

Twas my sisters charge, she thinkes of long things, poore heart.

Ant.

I cannot give you the entertainment I woud bro­ther, but I pray you let this provide for you.

Iaq.

This is Hostesse, Tapster, Chamberlaine, & all, bro­ther.

Ant.

In the morning early my letter shall bee ready for you.

Iaq.

I will lye in my boote all night, but I'le bee ready as soone as your letter: Bonos nocios, mi frater.

Ant.
Stay brother, one thing I must aske you,
And pray you tell me, Whats your thought of me,
Finding me in a Ladies company?
Iaq.

O brother, I woud not have you thinke you have a foole to your kindred, what! I understand these toyes, there are fowle, and there are fish, there are wag-tayles, and there are Mermayds.

Ant.
Of what sort do you thinke she is?
Iaq.

Oh brother, definitions and distinctions! fie on 'um, come, I know flesh and bloud will be sporting. And I were a married man my selfe, I woud not alwayes be at home, I woud hawke, and hunt, and ride, there are divers members in one body, there are flesh dayes, and there are fish dayes, [...]man must not alwayes eate one sort of meat.

Ant.

I see you are a wag brother.

Iaq.

Alwayes let a married man get his owne children at home if he can, if he have a bit abroad for procreation or so—.

Ant.

Well good night brother, I pray hold a good opi­nion of me.

Iaq:

O Sir, I can winke with one eye like a gunner, shall I make my sister sicke of the yelow laundies? no, thought is free, whatsoever I speak [...], I'le say nothing; Vale, valete, valete, valetote.

Exit.
Ant.
I can dissemble mirth no longer.
Oh my afflicted soule, wert thou capable
Of separation, thou woudst now be rent
Into a thousand peeces: [...].
[Page] Enter Lazarello.
Laz.
Now Sir, you are full of newes I'me sure.
Ant.
Heavy and froward newes: where's Dionisia?
Laz.
At distance enough in the Castle; you may speake.
Ant.
I am discover'd, Margaretta knowes of this
Her wrong, and my disloyalty.
Laz.
It was no mystery,
And must be found, but how does she beare it.
Ant.
Better then her birth,
Aswell as my addition to her, nobly,
And if her hand does not belye her heart,
She's glad that I have found an equall liking.
Laz.
She has done as becomes her.
Ant.
Yet with this request,
That I would not forsake her utterly,
But some times see her, tis articled too,
That twice a weeke sheed have my fellowship
By night, and private stealthes, the which obtainde,
Sheed loose the name of wife, and never shame
To be call'd my Concubine.
Laz.
I, this is well,
Fine light pageant worke, but now sure building,
This gilds a while, but will at length wash off agen;
This roofe must be raisde upon a sounder groundsill;
Give me your free bosome, you have one heart, and two wayes,
Which may have the better part freely.
Ant.
My conscience
And my affection warre about this quarrell,
My conscience saith the first, but my affection,
The second.
Laz.
So then, you shoud
Love Margaretta, but do love Dionisia.
Ant.
My heart's triangled, two points Dionisia [...]s,
And that downwards Margarets, and that's the smallest.
Laz.
I thanke you for this free delivery:
[Page]
You seale your friendship to me, now let me build,
I ha'te, I'le rid your griefes at once; will you
But give consent.
Ant.
To any faire condition.
Laz.
No worse then Margarets request to you,
Or very little, returne your letter, that
You will satisfie all her desire, appoint
Your first nights approach, and privately.
Ant.
Night cannot hide it ever.
Laz.
But heare me,
You shall not go, I will supply your place,
Not to blemish, but to preserve your honour:
Command your entertainment, so secret be,
As that no lights may leade you to your chamber,
Let me alone to counterfeit for once,
And once shall serve for all, if it but take,
And that she bed with me, not for the act,
For there your honour must be weighed, but company,
Shall serve the turne, then rise I and proclaime
Both our luxurious sin [...]; how [...] she then
Claime any part in you?
Ant.
Tis a strange extreame [...]
Laz.
Vlcers must have co [...]sives to eate, not [...]kinde,
Extreames must have extreames to co [...]pe withall.
It will not yeeld else.
Ant.
I like it, and allow it;
Tis more then water that must fight with wilde fire.
This passage shall be inst [...]ly preparde
With some of my wearin [...], brought as neare my selfe
As art can make, this Ring to strengthen it,
I could subtract a third from my estate
To heale her iniury, and quite blot out
That [...]ain [...]s mine honour, being voyc't,
It must be curde; pardon heaven and Margaret,
There is an innate falling from what's good,
Which nothing can r [...]p [...]ire in's but our bloud.
Exeunt.

Actus quartus.

Enter [...] with [...], and [...].
Iul.
THat I should ten leagues be in scorne remov'de
From Court unto my co [...]ntrey house! for what?
Tis very strange; know you the cause?
Pia.
Not I, my Lord.
Iul.
I cry you mercy Sir, and my king mercy,
And I beshrew my [...]ho [...]ghts for be [...]g troubled.
I know the canst my selfe, his gr [...]ce is wise,
For seeing me on a [...] of [...],
So eye-able to the world, the [...] slaves,
The multitude in their loud be [...]g voyce [...],
Might adde so much to me Sir, as might dim
His owne proper [...], for such [...] see
The present [...], [...], or [...],
He gives me saf [...]ty [...], [...]
Himselfe much worth and honour, for Sir, what honour
Can subiects have, but is [...]
Due [...] [...]heir Crowne [...], [...],
I do app [...] [...], [...]
Pia.
Your prisoners must be sent [...] too my Lord.
Iul.
Ha? my prisoners? [...] go [...] somewhat further,
Sir, I befe [...] yo [...] this day [...]
Your selfe into our [...] nobly [...],
The [...] go [...] the [...] [...]oo
This very night [...] [...]swer and conf [...]r [...]e
What he command [...].
Pia.
To morrow I must returne.
Exit [...].
Iul.
You shall, [...] I pray be merry with us:
Command [...]d [...] [...]he Co [...] my prisoners [...]nt for!
Tis strange; oh my forgetfull m [...]ry!
I did not aske how my [...] [...]:
But she forgets too, mindes not me her father,
We'le mixe 'um both together, but my prisoners!
[Page] Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Sir, heres a woman (forede by some tide of sor­row)
With teares intreats your pitty, and to see you.
Iul.
If any souldier has done violence to her,
Beyond our military discipline,
Death shall divide him from us, Fetch he [...] in.
Exit Servant.
I have my selfe a daugh [...], [...] on whose face
But thinking, I must ne [...]d [...] be pitifull:
And when I ha told my conquest to my king,
My poore girle then shall know, how for her sake
I did one pious act; is this the creature!
Enter with Iacinta.
Ser.
Yes, my Lord, and a sad one.
Iul.
Leave us: a sad one!
The down-c [...] loo [...], calls up comp [...]ssion in me,
A Coarse going to the gr [...]e looks not more deadly,
Why kneelst thou! art thou wrongde by any souldier!
Rise, for this honour is not due to me.
Hast not a tongue to reade thy sorrowes out!
This booke I understand not.
Iacin.
O my deare father!
Iul.
Thy father? who has wrongd him?
Iac.
A great Commander.
Iul.
Vnder me!
Iac.
Above you.
Iul.
Above me? whose above a Generall?
None but the Generall of all Spaines Armies,
And thats the king, king R [...]d [...]icke; hees all goodnesse.
He cannot wrong thy father.
Iacin.
What was Tarquin?
Iul.
A king, and yet a [...]isher.
Iacin.
Such a sinne
Was in those dayes a monster, [...] [...]tis common.
Iul.
[Page]
Prethee be plaine.
Iacin.
Have not you Sir, a daughter?
Iul.
If I have not, I am the wretchedst man
That this day lives: for all the wealth I have
Lives in that childe.
Iacin.
O for your daughters s [...]ke then heare my woes.
Iul.
Rise then, and speake 'um.
Iac.
No, let me kneele still,
Such a resemblance of a daughters duty,
Will make you mindfull of a fathers love:
For such my iniuries must exact from you,
A you would for your owne.
Iul.
And so they do,
For whilst I see thee kneeling, I thinke of my Iacinta.
Iac.
Say your Iacinta then (chast as the Rose)
Comming on sweetly in the springing bud,
And ne're felt heat, to spread the Sommer sweet:
But to increase and multiply it more,
Did to it selfe keepe in its owne perfu [...]e:
Say that some rapine hand had pluckt the bloome,
Iacinta like that flower, and ravisht her,
Defiling her white lawne of chastity,
With ugly blacks of lust; what would you do?
Iul.
O tis too hard a question to resolve,
Without a solemne Councell held within
Of mans best understanding faculties:
There must be love, and fatherhood, and griefe,
And rage, and many passions, and they must all
Beget a thing call'd vengeance; but they must sit upon't.
Iac.
Say this were don [...] by him that carried
The fairest seeming face of friendship to your selfe.
Iul.
We should fall out.
Iac.
Would you in such a case respect degrees?
Iul.
I know not that.
Iac.
Say he were noble.
Iul.
Impossible: th'acts ignoble, the Bee can breed
No poyson, though it sucke the iuyce of hemlocke.
Iac.
Say a king should doo' [...] were th' [...] lesse done
[Page]
By the greater power, does Maiesty extenuate a crime:
Iul.
Augment it rather.
Iac.
Say then that Rod [...]ricke, your king and Master,
To quit the honours you are bringing home,
Had ravisht your Iacinta.
Iul.
Who has sent
A furie in this fowle-faire shape to vexe me?
I ha seene that face me thinks, yet know it not:
How darest thou speake this treason, gainst my king?
Durst any man it [...] world, bring me this lye,
By this, had been in hell; Rodoricke a Tarquin?
Iacin.
Yes, and thy daughter (had she done her part)
Should be the second Lucr [...]ce: view me well,
I am Iacinta.
Iul.
Ha?
Iac.
The king my ravisher.
Iul.
The king thy ravisher! oh unkingly sound:
He dares not sure, yet in thy sullied eyes
I reade a Tragicke story.
Enter Antonio, Alonzo, Medina.
O noble friends,
Our warres are ended, are they not?
Omn.
They are Sir.
Iul.
But Spaine has now begun a civill warre.
And to confound me onely: see you my daughter?
She sounds the Trumpet, which draws forth my sword
To be revengde.
Alon.
On whom? speake loud your wrongs,
Digest your choller into temperance:
Give your considerate thoughts the upper hand,
In your hot passions, twill asswage the swelling
Of your big heart; if you have iniuries done you,
Revenge them, and we second you.
Iac.
Father, deare father.
Iul.
Daughter, deare daughter.
Iac.
Why do you kneele to me Sir?
Iul.
[Page]
To aske thee pardon that I did beget thee,
I brought thee to a shame staines all the way
Twixt earth and Acheron: not all the clouds
(The skies large canopy) could they drowne the S [...]
With a perpetuall inundation,
Can wash it ever out, leave me I pray.
Falls downe.
Alon.
His fighting passions will be ore anon,
And all will be at peace.
Ant.
Best in my iudgement,
We wake him with the fight of his won honours:
Call up the army, and let them present
His prisoner [...] to him, such a sight as that
Will brooke no sorrow neare it.
Iul.
Twas a good Doctor that prescrib'de that physick
I'le be your patient Sir, shew me my souldiers,
And my new honours won, I will truly weigh them,
With my full griefes, they may perhap [...] o [...]come.
Exit Ant.
Alon.
Why now theres hope of his recovery.
Iul.
Iacinta welcome, thou art my child still,
No forced staine of lust can alienate
Our consanguinitie.
Iac.
Deare Father,
Recollect your noble spirits, conquer griefe,
The manly way: you have brave foes subdued,
Then let no female passions thus orewhelm [...] you.
Iul.
Mistake me not, my childe, I am not mad,
Nor must be idle; for it were more fit,
(If I could purchase more) I had more wit,
To helpe in these designes, I am growne old:
Yet I have found more strength within this arme,
Then without proofe I durst ha boasted on.
Rodericke thou king of monsters couldst thou do this?
And for thy lust confine me from the Court,
There [...] reason in thy shame, thou shouldst not see me.
Ha! they come Iacinta, they come, hearke, hearke,
Now thou shalt see what cause I have given my king:
Enter Anton is with the Affr [...] king, [...] other M [...] prisoners.
[Page]
Stand, pray stand all, deliver me my prisoners:
So [...] well, wondrous well, I have no friends
But these my enemies, yet welcome brave Moores,
With you [...]le parley; first I defle you all.
Alon.
How?
Iul.
I am a vowd for to your King, to Rod [...]rique.
Ant.
How Iulia [...]!
Iul.
Nay we feare you not, here's our whole army;
Yet we are strong enough from feare or flight.
Ant.
Make us understand a reason Iulianus,
If for disloyalty reason may be given
Of this your language.
Iul.
[...] you [...]y Iudges whom I make my foes?
Was my power plac't above my mercy, or mercy
Above my power? went they not hand in hand?
Ant.
Ever most nobly.
Alon.
Ever, ever.
Iul.
Why then should Rod [...]rique doe this base deed?
Ant.
You doe distract us Sir, beseech you name it.
Iul.
Behold this child of mine, this onely mine,
I had a daughter, be she is ravisht now.
Omn.
Ravisht?
Iul.
Yes, by Rod [...]rique, by [...], tyr [...], Rod [...]rique:
Omn.
O most abhorrid deed?
Iul.
Ioyne with me noble Spaniard [...] in Revenge.
Omn.
We will.
Iul.
Have I your hearts?
Omn.
Our [...]ves sh [...] [...]eale it.
Iul.
Then Prince [...]y [...], here I free thee,
And all thy valiant Moores: Wilt thou call back
Thy scattered forces, and incorporate
Their strengths with mine, [...]nd with me march through Spaine,
Sharpning thy sword with vengeance for my wrong [...]?
Moore.
Most willingly, to [...]nde me f [...]er to thee,
Plight me thy ravisht daughter to my wife,
And thou shalt see my indignation fly
On wings of Thunder.
Iaci [...].
O my secon [...] hell,
[Page]
A Christians armes embrace an infidell!
Iul.
Ile not compell her heart, wo [...]e, win, and wed her:
Forc't has she bin too much,—My honor'd friends,
What We all thought to ha borne home in Triumph,
Must now be seene there in a Funerall,
Wrackt Honour being chiefe Mourner; here's the Herse
Which weele all follow;—Roderique we come,
To give thy lust a scourge, thy life a doome.
Ex [...]unt.
A bed discovered, on it Lazarello, as A [...]: Enter Mar­garetta and Fydella with a [...]alter.
Mar.
Sleepes he Fyd [...]lla?
Fyd.
Slumbringly Madam; hee's not yet in his dead sleepe.
Mar.
Tis now his dying, anon comes his dead sleep.
For never shall he wake, untill the world
Hath Phoenix-like bin hid in his owne ashes,
Fydella, take my strength into thine armes,
And play the cruell executioner,
As I will first instruct thee.
Fyd.
I am so farre
From shrinking, Madam, that Ile gladly be
The Prologue to Ant [...]s Tragedy.
Mar.
Ant [...]s Tragedy! that very Name
Should strike even sparkes of pitty from the flint:
Antoni [...]! husband A [...].
Fyd.
Remember there's another owes that Name.
Mar.
I, that's that's the poyson kils me; shall a strumpet
(For shee's no better) rob me of a treasure
So deere to me as he was; yet her I pardon:
The master-thiefe lies here, and he must dye fort:
All mercy hence I banish. Iustice looke downe
To see a womans vengeance; thus I begin,
And follow thus and thus, now I am in,
Nothing shall pull me back.
Laz.
Oh, oh.
Fyd.
He has passage yet for breath.
Mar.
[Page]
Here's remedy for that, pull Fydella.
Fyd.
He woud speake it seemes.
Mar.
Never; his tongue betrayd me once, I will
No more listen my temptations; heare he shall
A while, and that but deafly: Antoni [...],
I was your wife, Lordly Ant [...]ni [...],
And in that balance equal'd with your selfe,
I was your handmaid, and you might have trod
On my humility, I had kist your feet,
But with disdaine thou trampledst on my throat,
As I doe now on thine, and will deface
What nature built for honor, not deceit:
Our wedding was in private, so our divorce,
Yet this shall have as fre and open blazon
As a truth-speaking goodnesse; O my Fydella,
Thou little instrument of my revenge,
I woud not have thee (for thy duty) lost,
There's gold; hye thee to safety, fare thee well,
I must nere see thee more, this place will be—
Fyd.
Not too hot for me Madam; my complexion
Is naturall to it: good fortunes follow you;
If I might counsell you, I woud conceale it:
If you can fly, doe not betray your selfe.
Exit.
Mar.
Fy, prethee away, thou wilt marre all the glory,
Conceale the deed? even to the bended brow
Of the sterne Iudge, Ile speake, and call for iustice,
Proud of my glorious vengeance, I will smile
Vpon my dreadfull Executioner:
Twas that was first enacted in my brest,
She shoud not dare to kill, that dares not die,
Tis needy mischiefe, and hee's basely bent
That dares doe ill, yet feare the punishment.
Exeunt.

Actus quintus.

Enter King Rodorique and Fiamentelli.
Rod.
SOme musique.
Pia.
Musique Sir! tis all untunde,
Remember your proud enemies approach,
And your unreadinesse to entertaine um.
Rod.
If all be set upon a carelesse hazard,
What shall care doe there?
Pia.
Rouze you like a Lion,
And fright this heard of Foxes, Wolves, and Beares,
From daring to come neere you: a Kings eye.
Has Magicall charmes in't to binde treason down,
They fight like theeves for spoile, you for your owne;
Rod.
O Piamentelli, theres within my bosome,
An army of Furies mustred, worse than those
Which follow Iulianus: Conscience beats
The Drum of horror up.
Pia.
For what! a Meidenhead!
Pray be your selfe, and justifie the act,
Stand on your guard, and royalize the fact
By your owne dispensation.
Rod.
Goe call our friends together, if we have none,
Hire them with double pay, our selfe will search
And breake those dangerous doores which have so long
Kept Spaine in childish ignorance.
Fia.
O good my Lord,
Forbeare, there's fatall prophesies forbid you.
Rod.
There's fatall fooleries; tell me of prophesies!
Shall feare affright me? no; upon my life
Tis hidden treasure kept for needfull houres,
And now tis come; tis gold must purchase soldiers;
[Page]
Shall I not seeke it then? alone Ile breake
Ope those forbidden doores, goe muster men.
Pia.
This I dread more then all our enemies,
If good proceed from this, no Magick Art
Shall fright me.
Exit.
Rod.
Or good, or bad, Ile throw the dice my selfe,
And take the chance that fals; thou art the first,
Thunder
Hell wakens, yet Ile on, twenty at least
I must passe through before I breake the spell,
If this doore thither lead, Ile enter hell.
Exit.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter Rod [...]rique againe at another doore.
Rod
So now I me entred to the fatall chamber,
Shew now thy full effects, ha? what sight's this?
Enter Iulianus, Moore, Iaciuta, Ant [...]i [...], Al [...]nz [...], one presenting Rod [...]rique.
Rod.
Tis holliday in hell, the fiends are loose,
I have enfranchiz'd you, thank me Devils;
Was this the fatall incantation
That here was lockt so many fearfull ages,
And was't decreed for me to dislocate?
Fire consume you geomantick Devils,
Where borrowed you those bodies, you damn'd theeves?
In your owne shapes you are not visible,
Or are you yet but fancies imaginarie?
What's he that me presents? I have not sent
My carcas forth, I am not sleeping now,
And my soule straid forth, I am my reall selfe,
Must I be captiv'd by a traitor so?
[Page]
Devill thou playest me false; undiadem'd?
And such a sooty fiend inherit me?
Iacinta, too, that she-curse, must she have part?
Kneeling to them, here's a solemnity
In the Devils name; goe raigne in Sulphur, or in
Some frozen Labyrinth; this Kingdom's mine:
Thou there that me personat'st, draw forth thy sword,
And brandish't against hell, Ile shew thee how?
Exeunt Shew.
What Magick bindes me? what furies hold mine arme.
Piamentelli, Avilla, none succour me?
Enter Piamentelli.
Pia.
What ayles you Sir?
Rod.
My foes are come upon me.
Pia.
Comming they are, but yet a league distant, Sir,
Rod.
Zounds they are come, and have bin here with me.
Traiterous Iulianus, and his ravisht daughter,
An army of Moores, of Turks and infidels.
Pia.
Your fancies trouble you, they are but comming,
Too neere in that, make up to your souldiers,
Full twenty thousand now will follow you and more.
Rod.
The Moore's a comming, & the devill too that must
Succeed me in my last monarchy, take armes and fight,
The fiends shall know they have not plaid me right.
Exeunt.
Enter Lothario with a halter.
Lo.

O for a private place to bee hang'd in; when all hope's gone, welcome despaire; which way soever the day goes, I'me sure this is my way; If the King overcome, I shall be hang'd for Iacintaes escape, if shee rise, I fall in recompence of her wrongs. All my griefe is, I want an heire to have my purse and clothes, one that would take the paines for me, an honest hangman were now as good [Page] a companion as I woud desire to meet with; I have liv'd a Lord, and I woud be loath to dye an executioner.

Enter Clowne.
Iaq.

Murder is come to light; Oh sister how hast thou overthrowne our honorable house before it was well co­vered; oh ambitious sister, halfe a share in a Lord woud not content thee, thou woud have all or none, now thou hast none, for thou hast kild thy Lord and husband.

Lo.

I was a Lord, altho a bawdy Lord.

Iaq.

I was a Lords brother, altho a bawdy Lords bro­ther.

Lo.

O Lechery, how hast thou puft mee up and un­done me.

Iaq.

O Lechery, thou hast battend me a while, and then spoild me.

Lo.
Ha? what art thou?
Iaq.
Partly honorable, partly miserable.
Lo.
Give me thy hand.
Iaq.
Give me thy halter then.
Lo.
Art thou a hangman then?
Iaq.

I, and a mad one, but now I droope, and am rea­dy to drop into the budget.

Lo,

Looke here's worke for thee, here's clothes, and here's mony, wout thou take the paines to hang me?

Iaq.

I have liv'd a Lords brother, and woud be loath to die a hangman.

Lo.

Doe not desire to die, live till thou diest of thine owne accord.

Iaq.

Tis my desire, but I want a cord of mine owne, prethee lend me thine.

Lo.

Let me perswade thee to be charitable to thy selfe, spare thy selfe, and hang me, I have beene a Pander, knowst thou what a Pander is?

Iaq.
In briefe a knave; more at large thus;
Hee's a thing that is poore,
He waits upon a whore,
[Page]
When shee's sick, hee's sore,
In the streets he goes before,
At the chamber waits at doore,
All his life a runs o'th score,
This I know, and know no more.
Lo.
All this Ile adde to it,
He weares long locke,
And villanous socks,
Many nights in the stocks,
Endures some knocks,
And a many of mocks,
Eates reversions of cocks,
Yet lies in the flocks,
Thrives by the smocks,
And dies with the pox.
All this I have beene, and now desire to be hang'd for't.
Iaq.
What hast thou there?
Lo.

A hundred marks, besides leases, and lands which I have wickedly gotten, all which I will bestow on thee, if thou wilt take the paines to hang me.

Iaq:

Hum? my brother is dead, and there is no way to raise our house agen but by ready money or credit; the hangman many times mounts above his betters; well I will hang, but my conscience beares me witnesse, tis not for any good will I beare unto thee, nor for any wrong that I know thou hast committed; but innocently for thy lands, thy leases, thy clothes, and thy money. And so come a long with to me the next tree, where thou shalt hang till thou art dead, and stink above ground.

Lo.

With all my heart, my guts, my lights, my liver, and my lungs.

Alarum, Excursions, Enter Rodorique and Pia [...]telli.
Pia.
Fly, fly my Lord.
Rod.
With what wings?
Pia.
With wings of speed.
[Page]
Your foes, Sir, conquer, and your souldies bleed,
The barbarous Moore is titled by your name,
The Spanish King; therefore your safest speed
Will be to Biscany, there you may finde
New friends, new safety, and new kingly mindes.
Rod.
There is no friendship where there is no power,
I must crave now, oh poverty most poore,
To beg of them receiv'd mine al [...]es, before.
I have defended them:
Pia.
They'le you releeve.
Rod.
Ile make the proofe: what do you call the man
Whose prowesse in that rightfull victory
Against the Moores did so much honor win?
Pia.
A [...].
Rod.
He was, and is, and may be, but not long?
This poyson'd Iuli [...] has hatterd him.
Thou art my subject still Pia [...]telli.
Pia.
Whilst I am Pia [...]telli.
Rod.
Wert thou gone,
I then might boast, I were a King alone,
For but thy selfe I doe not know one subject,
Then subjects all, since you [...] not let me die,
Ile seeke a weary life in Biscany.
Exeunt
Enter Moore and Iacinta.
Mo.
Thou mutable peece of nature, dost thou fly me?
Iac.
Th'at [...] frightfull to me.
Mo.
I shall be more frightfull,
If thou repell a proferd arme of love,
There will rebound a hate blacker in Art
Then in similitude; forget me not,
Have not I chac't thy wronger from his ground,
And my triumphant selfe thy conqueror?
I am thy King.
Iac.
Ile feare thee then?
Mo.
[Page]
Not love me!
Iac.
The word is poison'd in thy very tongue,
Love thee? as I would love my ravisher.
Mo.
Thy father shall repent.
Iac.
He must, and will,
That ere he freed a captive infidell.
Mo.
Looke for a vengeance.
Exit.
Iac.
Yes, some barbarous one,
Tis naturall to thee, base African,
Thine in side a blacker then thy sooty skin.
Oh Iulianus, what hast thou done? thast sc [...]p't
The raging Lion, to wrastle with a Dragon,
He would have slaine with a majesticke gripe.
But this with venome; better had bin thy fate
By him to fall, then thus, by such a [...]ound.
Enter Moore and Soldiers, with Iulianus.
Mo.
Bring forth that traytor, same that lustfull whore.
Iul.
What wilt thou monster?
Iac.
Any thing that's monstrous.
Mo.
Reward a traytor.
Iul.
Traytor?
Mo.
Be thine owne iudge,
What art thou but thy Kings, and Kingdomes ruine?
Was it thy hopes, that ever I should trust thee?
Traytors are poyson'd arrowes drawne toth'head.
Which we shoot home at mischiefe; being struck dead,
Then let the arrow be consumed in fire.
Hast not betrayd thy King and Country basely
Iul.
For thee (ingratefull, villanous Moore) I have,
I have deserv'd to die, but not by thee,
And I beseech thee, bloody Tyrant, hasten
My punishment.
Mo.
That boone is easily g [...].
Iul.
Tis now full glory to thee, to strike h [...]
Set the black character of death upon [...]
[Page]
Give me a sentence horrid as thy selfe art,
Speake in thy barbarous language, thy last doome,
A tyrants Axe sends me [...]o a [...]st home.
Mo.
Pluck out his eyes, and her exclaiming tongue,
She shall in silent sarrow then lead him,
Her eyes shall be his st [...].
Iul.
O spare her tyrant.
By her offence and wrong thou hast aspirde,
Then tread not on her vertues, [...] enough
That I doe suffer for the good [...] I did
To set thy [...] above my head:
Oh spare my child.
Iac.
Entr [...]t for me? forbeare Sir,
Either be you dumbe or let him not heare,
I shall have mentall [...] for heaven,
Fuller effectuall then this tongue [...].
And for the author of my [...] and [...],
I shall have [...].
[...].
Enter Marg [...] [...] of [...] P [...], and [...].
Mar.
O Iustice, Iustice, thou that [...]ilst the throne
[...] Iustice [...].
Give me thy sharpest [...].
Mo.
Against [...]
Mar.
My selfe the [...] [...].
Mo.
[...].
Enter A [...] w [...]ed, with Di [...] sin.
Mar.
Yes, and see, here's [...]
A [...] ghost! murdred by me, [...]
A [...].
[...] and [...].
To kill my friend, (my [...] friend) [...].
Thou strangledst L [...]
Mar.
O my hard [...]
[Page]
My aim, was full at thee.
Aut.
End thy just hate,
For I am parting from thee; see those two
That wrong'd thee are both wounded to the death,
With griefe she, I by poyson lose my breath.
Dio.
Forgive him, but spare not me.
Mar.
How came you wounded?
I clap my hands at this your tragedy,
My birth was base, but my revenge flew high.
Mo.
A noble girle, a lusty stout Virago.
Aut.
Iul [...], for a wrong done to his daughter,
(The fatall Engine that hath beat downe Spaine)
Revolted from his King, and set that Moore up,
Who now insults, being but a captive the [...],
And cause in honest language I was just
In taxing this revole of [...],
He bid a soldier kill me, who re [...]ing [...],
He himselfe struck me; life was [...] thus long,
But for the clensing of my conscience:
I feele deathe p [...]ngs, forgive me both, and all,
Let my soule [...], [...] any body f [...]ll
With honor I got hon [...], [...] my [...] [...]hr [...]ves,
Thus fals the wretched husband of two wiv [...]s
[...].
Dio.
So, here's [...] of [...],
A wholsome example to all succ [...]
Let every wise man take h [...]d of two [...],
Tis [...]o [...] of the [...]
My selfe should break one of [...] hearts.
What should I call thee, widow, shall wee marry one ano­ther now.
And beget Chimeraes, I doe not thinke
That ever any one husband [...]
On us both [...]
Mar.
Dost [...] [...] [...] thing
Which should supply the place of [...] in [...],
Merely phantasticall▪ are thy [...]
Such featherd follies, idle giggloto [...]
[Page]
Are these the rites due to a funerall?
Dio.
Why? hast never seene the sun-shine of a rainy day?
Who does beleeve a widows teares to be her hearts sorrow?
Are they not then better spa'rd then derided?
Let me see then what thou dar'st do with wet eyes,
That I dare not answere with a smiling cheeke?
Mar.
What thou dar'st not second I dare doe.
Dio.
Begin, Ile pledge thee.
Mar.
Thou dar'st not.
Dio.
Try me.
Mar.
Thus then I come to thee A [...];
Sta [...]s herselfe.
Thou didst forsake me living, being [...]
I will enjoy thy monu [...]all bed.
Kisses him.
Dio.
I, hast thou that resolution?
Me thinkes a woman ( [...] I am) should not out do me,
I must dye one day, and as good this day as another,
Whereabouts is my heart, I thinke all over my body,
I am all heart, and therefore cannot misse,
Some creatures dye singing, why not I merrily,
Make me roome A [...] and [...],
Weele all tumble in one bed together,
Ile lie as close as shee on thy left side,
And have as many kisses too, th [...]' [...] my bargai [...];
My sinnes are all upon thy conscience,
But I forgive thee, and [...] the Clarke to' [...],
My soule will have [...] passage, my body I b [...]queath
To thee Aut [...]io, I am your wife,
And will come to [...]d to you, thus I make unready,
Thus I lie downe, thus kisse, and this embrace
Ile ever keepe, I am [...] with play,
I needs must sleepe for ever.
Moritur.
Mo.
Excellent pasti [...]
[Page] Enter I [...] a leading I [...].
Iul.
Tis night with me for ever, where' [...] this ty [...]ant?
Turne me but to him, and from th [...]se darkned eyes
I shall discover his Cymerian face,
For tho all is darke, yet still that's visible,
And nothing else to me; see ran here vil [...],
Looke what a bloody pageant thou hast made;
I borrow eyes to guide me of my child,
And her Ile lend a tongue to curse thee with.
Mo.
Ha, ha, ha.
Iul.
Thou l [...]est at misery.
Tis well, thou giuest a gr [...]e [...] my for [...],
Yet wherefore shouldst thou glory in't? this worke
Is none of thine, tis heavens mercifull iustice,
For thou ar [...] but the [...],
The master [...], and th [...]se [...]
That did these bloody [...] upon' [...],
Thy second slaves, and yet I more deserve,
I was a tra [...] to [...] to my lawfull King,
And tho my w [...] [...]cked on [...],
I had no warrant signed for my revenge,
Tis the peoples sinnes that makes tyr [...]n [...] King [...],
And such was [...]ne for thee, now I obey,
But my affliction teaches [...] too [...]
On bloody [...]ger, [...] up my [...].
Mo.
[...]
Nor give thee living in captivity,
Thy body shall enjoy the generall prison.
But thy soule set [...].
Iul.
Thou art good in th [...], and no [...].
Mo.
Nay it shall nobler [...]e in the perfor [...],
Give him weapons, thou art a soldier,
And shalt end so; Ile be thy opp [...],
With od [...] of eyes, but not of armes, I vow,
If thy darke ayme hit in my face, Ile stand,
And die with thee, if not, fall by my hand.
Iul.
[Page]
Thoul't hurt my pen [...]ence, for I shall blesse
All the ill deeds [...] I have done for thee,
In this so noble end,
Mo.
B [...] pr [...] then.
Iul.
One thing more of [...], be a prophet to me first,
For thou know'st what shall become of my poore Iacinta,
What end to her [...].
Mo.
[...] end thou [...] know it.
Iul.
O [...] it noble be, and honourable;
Her life has had [...] strokes of [...];
Oh let her end be sp [...]g.
Mo.
[...] shall be noble too.
Iul.
I [...] for her that has no tongue to beg,
And what [...] my saint yeelding breath,
Shall all be spent in blessings over thee:
Farewell Iacinta, take my latest blessing,
I know thy soule returnes a thanks to me,
Make haste to overtake me, if thou beest stayd,
Thinke of Cl [...]patra and Brutus wife,
There's many wayes to end a weary life.
Mo.
Come Sir, I stand before you.
Iul.
Thur I come,
Thy death Ile venter, but receive mine owne,
So, I have my doome, and I have hit too.
Mo.
Ha, ha, ha,
Iul.
Laughest then [...] any [...]ed then.
Mo.
O bloody homic [...]de, thou hast slaine thy daughter.
Iul.
False villaine, hast thou then so mockt my woes,
To make me fatall butcher of my child?
W [...] she the target to defend thy body?
Forgive me my Iacinta, 'twas in me
An innocent act of blood, but tyranny
In that black monster: 'tis not much ill,
Better my hand then a worse arme should spill
Thy guiltlesse life; what art thou going yet?
Thy warme blood cooles, my sunne begins to set,
Nature shrinkes backward to her former formes,
Our soules climbe stars, whilst these descend to wormes.
[Page]
See tyrant, from thy further strokes we fly,
Heaven do thy will, I will not cursing die.
[...].
Mo.
So, now we live beholding unto none
Vpon this stayre we do ascend our thro [...],
Give us our title.
O [...].
Long live Mulli [...] King of Spaine.
Mo.
Your silence it confirmes, take hence their bodies,
Give them to Christians, and let th [...] bestow
What ceremonious sunerals they please.
We must pursue the flying R [...].
All must be ours, weele have no Kingdome sh [...]er,
Let Chroniclers write, here we begin our raigne,
The first of Moores that [...]re was King of Spaine.
FINIS.

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