Your silken courtiers christen me: but, father, Go tell him; Spanish tyrant! tell him, do. ALV. Watch fitter hours to think on wrongs than now; Death's frozen hand holds royal Philip's heart; Half of his body lies within a grave; Then do not now by quarrels shake that state, Come, and take leave of him before he die. [Erit. ELEAZ. I'll follow you. Now purple villany, Sit like a robe imperial on my back, That under thee I closelier may contrive My vengeance; foul deeds hid, do sweetly thrive. How low I tumble down, so I mount high: Old Time, I'll wait bare-headed at thy heels, And be a foot-boy to thy winged hours; Sweet opportunity! I'll bind myself To thee in base apprenticehood so long, Till on thy naked scalp grow hair as thick This tragedy being acted, hers doth begin; SCENE II. [Exit. The curtain being drawn, there appears in his bed KING PHILIP, with his Lords; the PRINCESS ISABELLA at the feet; MENDOZA, ALVERO, HORTENZO, FERNANDO, RODERIGO; to them enter the QUEEN in haste. .Q. Mo. Whose was that screech-owl's voice, that, like the sound Of a hell-tortur'd soul, rung through mine ears Drowning my withered cheeks in my warm tears, All cried, the majesty of Spain is dead! That last word, dead, struck through the echoing air, Unnumber'd years, to guide this empery. K. PHIL. The number of my years ends in one day: Ere this sun's down, all a king's glory sets, For all our lives are but death counterfeits. Father Mendoza, and you peers of Spain, Dry your wet eyes; for sorrow wanteth force, T' inspire a breathing soul in a dead corse; Such is your king. Where's Isabel our daughter? MEND. At your bed's feet, confounded in her tears. K. PHIL. She of your grief the heaviest burthen bears; You can but lose a king, but she a father. Q. Mo. She bear the heaviest burthen! Oh! say rather I bear, and am borne down; my sorrowing Is for a husband's loss, loss of a king. K. PHIL. No more. Alvero, call the princess hither. ALV. Madam, his majesty doth call for you. K. PHIL. Come hither, Isabella! reach a hand,Yet now it shall not need: instead of thine, Death, shoving thee back, clasps his hands in mine, And bids me come away: I must! I must! Though kings be gods on earth, they turn to dust. Is not Prince Philip come from Portugal ? ROD. The prince, as yet, is not return'd, my lord. K. PHIL. Commend me to him if I ne'er behold him. This tells the order of my funeral; [He takes up a paper. Do it as 'tis set down; embalm my body; Though worms do make no difference of flesh, Yet kings are curious here to dig their graves; Such is man's frailty: when I am embalm'd, Apparel me in a rich royal robe, According to the custom of the land; Then place my bones within that brazen shrine, FERN. His grace doth faint,— Help me, my lords, softly to raise him up. K. PHIL. Lift me not up, I shortly must go down. ALL. When you are dead we will acknowledge him. K. PHIL. Govern this kingdom well; to be a king Is given to many; but to govern well, Granted to few. Have care to Isabel, Her virtue was King Philip's looking-glass; And lay me up in earth, let them crown you. FERN. Yonder, with cross'd arms, stands he malcontent. K. PHIL. I do commend him to thee for a man I did elect him for his gravity; I trust he'll be a father to thy youth. K. PHIL. Let none with a distracted voice [Dies. MEND. As yet his soul's not from her temple' gone, Therefore forbear loud lamentation. Q. Mo. Oh! he's dead, he's dead! lament and die! In her king's end begins Spain's misery. ISA. He shall not end so soon. Father, dear father! FERN. Forbear, sweet Isabella! shrieks are vain. ISA. You cry forbear; you, by his loss of breath, |