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Gives new fire to the cinders of my rage; 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
And from these wrongs assume a firm resolve
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.
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?
You're mad; it is no policy.
PHIL. You 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.
CARD. By deeds, I'll try
Whether your venomous tongue says true. Farewell! Courage shines both in this, and policy.
PHIL. To save thy skin whole, that's thy policy.
You whoreson fat-chop'd guts, I'll melt away
K. OF PORT. Prince Philip! Philip!
K. OF PORT. The Moor's a devil: never did horrid
Compell'd by some magician's mighty charm,
Through all, and spite of all knit opposition.
PHIL. Puh! puh! where? where?
I'll meet him, where? You mad me!
"Tis not his arm
That acts such wonders, but our cowardice.
CAPT. Sound a retreat, or else the day is lost!
K. OF PORT. Philip!
PHIL. I'll tear his heart out that dares name but
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 cardinal,
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,
ALL. Away then!
PHIL. From before me.
Stay, stand! stand fast, fight! a Moor, a Moor!
Enter ELEAZAR, ZARACK, BALTAZAR, RODERIGO, CHRISTOFERO, and others; they fight: the Moors are beat in, leaving 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,
You slave! who kill'd thee? How he grins! this breast,
Had it been temper'd and made proof like mine,
To hit afar off with their dastard bullets.
But thou didst well; thou knew'st I was thy lord,
Where I fell weary, thou laid'st down thyself,
As he sits down, enter PHILIP with a broken sword.
Moor, 'tis for thee I seek! come, now, now take me At good advantage; speak!, where art thou?
PHIL. Fate and revenge, I thank you. Rise!
PHIL. Villain, it is Philippo that bids rise.
ELEAZ. It had been good for thee to have hid thy
For the discovery, like to a dangerous charm,
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 weapon.