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I may

be well transformed from what I am, When a black devil is husband to my dam. K. of Port. Prince, let thy rage give way to

patience, And set a velvet brow upon the face Of wrinkled anger; our keen swords Must right these wrongs, and not light airy words. Phil. Yet words may make the edge of rage

more sharp, And whet a blunted courage with revenge. Alv. Here's none wants whetting, for our keen

resolves Are steeld unto the back with double wrongs; Wrongs that would make a handless man take

arms, Wrongs that would make a coward resolute,

Card. Why, then join all our several wrongs

in one,

And from these wrongs assume a firm resolve
To send this devil to damnation.

[Drums afar off Phil. I hear the sound of his approaching march. Stand fair ; Saint Jaques for the right of Spain. Enter the Moon, RODERIGO, CHRISTOFERO, with Drums, Colours, and Soldiers, marching bravely. Eleaz. Bastard of Spain !

Phil. Thou true stamp'd son of hell, Thy pedigree is written in thy face.

[Alarum, and a battle, the Moor prevails ;

all exeunt.



Phil. Move forward with your main battalion, Or else all is lost.

Card. I will not move a foot.
Phil. S'heart! will you lose the day?

Card. You lose your wits,
You're mad; it is no policy.

Phil. You lie.
Card. Lie!

Phil. Lie; a pox upon't, cardinal, come on,
Second the desperate vanguard which is mine,
And where I'll die or win; follow my sword
The bloody way I lead it, or by heaven
I'll play the devil, and mar all! we'll turn our backs
Upon the Moors, and set on thee; aye, thee,
Thee cardinal; s'heart! thee.

Card. Your desperate arm, Hath almost thrust quite through the heart of

hope :
Our fortunes lie a bleeding by your rash
And violent onset.

Phil. Oh! oh! s'life! s'foot! will you fight?
Card. We will not hazard all upon one cast.
Phil. You will not?
Card. No.
Phil. Coward !

Card. By deeds, I'll try
Whether your venomous tongue says true. Fare-


Courage shines both in this, and policy. (Exit.

Phil. To save thy skin whole, that's thy policy. You whoreson fat-chop'd guts, I'll melt away That larded body by the heat of figbt, Which I'll compel thee to, or else by flying : To work which, I'll give way to the proud foe, Wbilst I stand laughing to behold thee run. Cardinal, I'll do't, I'll do't; a Moor, a Moor, Philip cries, a Moor; holla! ha! whoo!


K. of Port. Prince Philip! Philip!
Phil. Here, plague where's the Moor?
K. of Port. The Moor's a devil: never did

horrid fiend,
Compeld by some magician's mighty charm,
Break through the prisons of the solid earth
With more strange horror, than this prince of hell :
This damned negro, lion-like, doth rush
Through all, and spite of all knit opposition.

Phil. Puh! puh! where? where?
I'll ineet him, where? You mad me !
Tis not his arm
That acts such wonders, but our cowardice.
This cardinal, oh! this cardinal is a slave.


Capt. Sound a retreat, or else the day is lost!
Phil. I'll beat that dog to death that sounds

retreat. K. of Port. Philip! Phil. I'll tear his heart out that dares name

but sound. K. of Port. Sound a retreat!

Phil. Who's that? you tempt my sword, sir ;
Continue this alarum, fight pell-mell;
Fight, kill, be damn'd. This fat-back, coward

Lies heavy on my shoulders ; this, aye this,
Shall fling him off. Sound a retreat? Zounds!

you mad me!
Ambition plumes the Moor, whilst black despair,
Offering to tear from him the diadem
Which he usurps, makes him to cry at all,
And to act deeds beyond astonishment;
But Philip is the night that darks his glories :
This sword, yet reeking with his negro's blood,
Being grasp'd by equity and this strong arm,
Shall through and through.

Al. Away then!

Phil. From before me.
Stay, stand ; stand fast, fight ! a Moor, a Moor!

Scene III.

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CHRISTOFERO, and others; they fight: Moors
are all beat in. Exeunt omnes. Manet ELEAZAR
weary ; a Moor lays slain.
Eleaz. Oh! for more work, more souls to post

to hell,
That I might pile up Charon's boat so full,
Until it topple o'er! Oh! 'twould be sport
To see them sprawl through the black slimy lake.
Ha, ha! there's one going thither: sirrah! you,
You slave! who kill'd thee? How he grins ! this


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Had it been temper'd and made proof like mine,
It never would have been a mark for fools
To hit afar off with their dastard bullets.
But thou didst well ; thou knew'st Iwas thy lord,
And out of love and duty to me, here,
Where I fell weary, thou laid'st down thyself,
To bear me up thus : God a-mercy, slave,
A king for this shall give thee a rich grave...

As he sits down enter Philip with a broken sword.

Phil. I'll wear thee to the pommel, but I'll find
The subject of mine honour and revenge.
Moor, 'tis for thee I seek! come, now, now take me
At good advantage; speak! where art thou?

Eleaz. Here!
Phil. Fate and revenge, I thank you. Rise!
Eleaz. Leave and live.
Phil. Villain, it is Pbilippo that bids rise.
Eleaz. It had been good for thee to have hid

thy name; For the discovery, like to a dangerous charm, Hurts him that finds it. Wherefore do those

Thy rage and valour, chase me?

Phil. Why, to kill thee.
Eleaz. With that! what a blunt axe? Think'st

thou, I'll let Thy fury take a full blow at this head, Having these arms? Be wise, go change thy

Phil. Oh, sir!
Eleuz. I'll stay thy coming.
Phil. Thou't be damn'd first.

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