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.

1

may

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.

You whoreson fat-chop'd guts, I'll melt away
That larded body by the heat of fight,
Which I'll compel thee to, or else by flying:
To work which, I'll give way to the proud foe,
Whilst 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!
Enter KING OF PORTUGAL.

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.

Compell'd by some magician's mighty charm,
Break through the prisons of the sclid 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 meet him, where? You mad me!

"Tis not his arm

That acts such wonders, but our cowardice.
This cardinal, oh! this cardinal is a slave.

Enter CAPTAIN.

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 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,
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.

ALL. Away then!

PHIL. From before me.

Stay, stand! stand fast, fight! a Moor, a Moor!

SCENE III.

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,
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 breast,

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 I was 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 Philippo 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 blood-

hounds,

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.