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That dares but dart a finger at the Moor,
Eleaz. But what? Bear injuries that can, I'll wear no forked crest. Rod. Damn this black fiend! cry treason
through the court, The king is murder'd. Eleaz. He that first opes his lips, I'll drive his
words Down his wide throat upon my rapier's point. The king is murder'd, and I'll answer it; I am dishonour'd, and I will revenge it. Bend not your dangerous weapons at my breast; Think where you are ; this castle is the Moor's ; You are environ'd with a wall of flint, The gates are lock’d, portcullises let down ; If Eleazar spend one drop of blood,
(Zarack and Baltazar above with calivers *.) On those high turret tops my slaves stand arm’d, And shall confound your souls with murd’ring shot: Or if you murder me, yet under ground, A villain, that for me will dig to hell, Stands with a burning limstock in his fist, Who firing gunpowder, up in the air Shall fling your torn and mangled carcasses.
* Caliver, a musket.
Qu. Mo. Oh! sheath your weapons though my
son be slain, Yet save yourselves, choose a new sovereign. All. Prince Philip is our sovereign, choose him
king! Eleaz. Prince Philip shall not be my sovereign. Philip's a bastard, and Fernando's dead; Mendoza sweats to wear Spain's diadem. Philip hath sworn confusion to this realm, They both are up in arms, war's flames do shine Like lightning in the air. Wherefore, my lords, Look well on Eleazar; value me, Not by my sun-burnt cheeks, nor by my birth; But by my loss of blood, Which I have sacrificed in Spain's defence. Then look on Philip and the cardinal; Look on those gaping curs, whose wide throats Stand stretch'd wide open like the gates of death, To swallow you, your country, children, wives. Philip cries fire and blood, the cardinal Cries likewise fire and blood; I'll quench those
flames. The Moor cries blood and fire, and that shall burn Till Castile, like proud Troy, to cinders turn. Rod. Lay by these ambages; what seeks the
Moor? Eleaz. A kingdom, Castile's crown. Alv. Peace, devil; for shame! Qu. Mo. Peace, doting lord, for shame! Oh,
misery! When Indian slaves thirst after empery. Princes and peers of Spain, we are beset With horror on each side; you deny him, Death stands at all our backs, we cannot fly him.
Crown Philip king, the crown upon his head
All. Eleazar shall be king !
Alv. Oh, treachery!
will crown him king, that slew your king? Eleaz. Will you hear him or me: who shall be
king? All. Eleazar shall be Castile's sovereign! Alv. Do, do! make haste to crown him ! lords
adieu : Here hell must be when the devil governs you.
[Exit. Eleaz. By heaven's great star, which Indians
do adore, But that I hate to hear the giddy world Shame that I waded to a crown through blood, I'd not digest his pills : but since, my lords, You have chosen Eleazar for your king, Invest me with a general applause.
AŬ. Live, Eleazar, Castile's royal king !
Rod. (Aside.) A villain, and a base born fu
gitive. Christo. (Aside.) A bloody tyrant and usurp
ing slave. Eleaz. Thanks to you all: 'Tis not the Spanish
That Eleazar strives for, but Spain's peace;
Enter ZARACK and BALTAZAR, with Calivers, Balt. Is thy cock ready, and thy powder dry?
Zar. My cock stands pearching like a cock o'the game, with a red coal for his crest, instead of a comb; and for my powder, 'tis but touch and take.
Balt. I have tickling geer too; anon I'll cry, here I have it, and yonder I see it. But, Zarack, is't policy for us to kill these bald-pates ?
Zar. Is't policy for us to save ourselves ? If they live, we die. Is't not wisdom then to send them to heaven, rather than be sent ourselves ? Come, you black slave, be resolute. This way they come; here they will stand, and yonder will I stand.
Balt. And in yonder hole, I.
Zar. Our amiable faces cannot be seen if we keep close ; therefore hide your cock's head, lest his burning cocks-comb betray us. But soft; which of the two shall be thy white*?
Balt. That black villain, friar Cole.
Zar. I shall have a sharp piece of service; Friar Crab shall be my man; farewell, and be resolute.
Balt. Zounds, Zarack! I shall never have the heart to do it.
Zar. You rogue, think who commands; Eleazar. Who shall rise? Baltazar. Who shall die? A lousy friar. Who shall live? Our good lord and master, the negro king of Spain.
Balt. Cole, thou art but a dead man, and shalt turn to ashes.
[Exit. Zar. Crab, here's that shall make vinegar of thy carcass.
[Exit. Enter Crab and Cole, two Friars, with a Rout
of Stinkards following them. Crab. Ab, brother, 'tis best so. Now we have drawn them to a head, we'll begin here i' the market-place. Tut, so long as we be commanded by the Mother Queen, we'll say her son is a bastard, an he were ten Philips.
Cole. Take you one market form, I'll take another.
Crab. No, godso, we must both keep one form.
* “ The mark at which an arrow is shot, which used to be painted white."