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ZAR. We saw 'em sprawl, and turn up the white of the eye.

ELEAZ. So shall they perish that lay countermines
To cross our high designments: by their habits
The cardinal and Philip 'scap'd our nets,

And by your hands they tasted our revenge.
Enter QUEEN MOTHER.

Here comes the queen, away! under our wings
You shall stand safe, and brave the proudest kings.

[Exeunt.

Q. Mo. Oh! fly my Eleazar, save thy life,
Else 'point a guard about thee; the mad people,
Tempestuous like the sea, run up and down,
Some crying, kill the bastard; some the Moor;
Some cry, God save King Philip; and some cry,
God save the Moor; some others, he shall die.
ELEAZ. Are these your fears? Thus blow them
into air.

I rush'd amongst the thickest of their crowds,
And with a countenance majestical,

Like the imperious sun, dispers'd their clouds;
I have perfum'd the rankness of their breath,
And by the magic of true eloquence,
Transform'd this many-headed Cerberus,
This pied cameleon, this beast multitude,
Whose power consists in number, pride in threats,
Yet melt like snow when majesty shines forth,
This heap of fools, who crowding in huge swarms,
Stood at our court gates like a heap of dung,

Reeking and shouting out contagious breath,
Of power to poison all the elements;

This wolf I held by th' ears, and made him tame,
And made him tremble at the Moor's great name:
No, we must combat with a grimmer foe;

That damn'd Mendoza overturns our hopes.
He loves you dearly.

Q. Mo. By his secret letters

He hath intreated me to leave the court,

And fly into his arms.

ELEAZ. The world cannot devise a stratagem

Sooner to throw confusion on his pride.
Subscribe to his desires, and in dead night
Steal to his castle; swear to him his love
Hath drawn you thither; undermine his soul,
And learn what villainies are there laid up;
Then, for your pleasure, walk to take the air:
Near to the castle I'll in ambush lie,
And seem, by force, to take you prisoner:
This done, I have a practice plotted here,
Shall rid him of his life, and us of fear.
About it, madam, this is all in all;
We cannot stand, unless Mendoza fall.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

Enter EMANUEL, KING of PORTUGAL, PRINCE PHILIP, CARDINAL MENDOZA, ALVERO, with drums and soldiers marching.

K. OF PORT. Poor Spain! how is the body of thy

peace

Mangled and torn by an ambitious Moor.
How is thy prince and counsellors abus'd,
And trodden under the base foot of scorn.
Wrong'd lords, Emanuel of Portugal partakes
A falling share in all your miseries;
And though the tardy-hand of slow delay
Withheld us from preventing your mishaps,
Yet shall revenge dart black confusion
Into the bosom of that damned fiend.

PHIL. But is it possible our Mother Queen
Should countenance his ambition?

ALV. Her advice is a steersman to direct his

course;

Besides, as we by circumstance have learnt,
She means to marry him.

PHIL. Then, here upon my knees,

I pluck allegiance from her; all that love,
Which by innative duty I did owe her,
Shall henceforth be converted into hate.
This will confirm the world's opinion
That I am base born, and the damned Moor
Had interest in my birth; this wrong alone

Gives new fire to the cinders of my rage;
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 steel'd 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 MOOR, 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 go out.

SCENE II.

Enter PHILIP and CARDINAL.

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. Farewell!

Courage shines both in this, and policy.

[Exit.

PHIL. To save thy skin whole, that's thy policy.

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