_Eugen_. Thy payment for my cure.
_King_. What?
_Eugen_. To turne Christian,
And set all Christian slaves at liberty.
_King_. Ile hang and torture all--
Call backe the Messenger sent with our signet.
For thy selfe, thou foole, should I allow
Thee life thou wouldst be poyson'd by our
Colledge of Physitians. Let him not touch me
Nor ever more come neare me; and to be sure
Thy sorceries shall not strike me, stone him to death.
(_They binde him to a stake, and fetch stones in baskets_.)
_Omnes. When?
_King_. Now, here presently.
_Eugen_. Ingratefull man!
_King_. Dispatch, his voyce is horrid in our eares;
Kill him, hurle all, and in him kill my feares.
_Eugen_. I would thy feares were ended.
_King_. Why thus delay you?
_Dam_. The stones are soft as spunges.
_Anton_. Not any stone here
Can raze his skin.
_Dam_. See, Sir.
_Cosmo_. Thankes, heavenly preservation.
_King_. Mockt by a hell-hound!
_Omnes_. This must not be endur'd, Sir.
_King_. Unbinde the wretch;
Naile him to the earth with Irons. Cannot death strike him?
New studied tortures shall.
_Eugen_. New tortures bring,
They all to me are but a banquetting.
[_Exit_.
_Anton_. But are you well, indeed, Sir?
_King_. Passing well:
Though my Physitian fetcht the cure from hell;
All's one, I am glad I have it.
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Quartus_.
_Enter Antony, Cosmo, Hubert, and Damianus_.
_Anton_. You, noble Hubert, are the man[164] chosen out
From all our _Vandal_ Leaders to be chiefe
O'er a new army, which the King will raise
To roote out from our land these Christians
That over-runne us.
_Cosmo_. 'Tis a glory, _Hubert_,
Will raise your fame and make you like our gods,
To please whom you must do this.
_Dam_. And in doing
Be active as the fire and mercilesse
As is the boundlesse Ocean when it swallows
Whole Townes and of them leaves no Monuments.
_Hub_. When shall mine eyes be happy in the sight
Of this brave Pagentry?
_Cosmo_. The King sayes instantly.
_Hub_. And must I be the Generall?
_Omnes_. Onely you.
_Hub_. I shall not then at my returning home
Have sharers in my great acts: to the Volume
My Sword in bloody Letters shall text downe
No name must stand but mine; no leafe turn'd o'er
But _Huberts_ workes are read and none but mine.
_Bellizarius_ shall not on his Clouds of fire
Fly flaming round about the staring World
Whilst I creepe on the earth. Flatter me not:
Am I to goe indeed?
_Anton_. The King so sweares.
_Hub_. A Kings word is a Statute graven in Brasse,
And if he breakes that Law I will in Thunder
Rouze his cold spirit. I long to ride in Armour,
And looking round about me to see nothing
But Seas and shores, the Seas of Christians blood,
The shoares tough Souldiers. Here a wing flies out
Soaring at Victory; here the maine Battalia
Comes up with as much horrour and hotter terrour
As if a thick-growne Forrest by enchantment
Were made to move, and all the Trees should meete
Pell mell, and rive their beaten bulkes in sunder,
As petty Towers doe being flung downe by Thunder.
Pray, thanke the King, and tell him I am ready
To cry a charge; tell him I shall not sleepe
Till that which wakens Cowards, trembling with feare,
Startles me, and sends brave Musick to mine eare;
And that's the Drumme and Trumpet.
_Ant_. This shall be told him.
_Dam_. And all the _Goths_ and _Vandalls_ shall strike Heaven
With repercussive Ecchoes of your name,
Crying, a _Hubert_!
_Hub_. Deafe me with that sound:
A Souldier, though he falls in the Field, lives crown'd.
_Cosmo_. Wee'le to the King and tell him this.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Bellina_.
_Hub_. Doe.--Oh, my _Bellina_,
If ever, make me happy now; now tye
Strong charmes about my full-plum'd Burgonet
To bring me safe home. I must to the Warres.
_Bellina_. What warres? we have no warres but in our selves;
We fighting with our sinnes, our sinnes with us;
Yet they still get the Victory. Who are in Armes
That you must to the Field?
_Hub_. The Kings Royall thoughts
Are in a mutiny amongst themselves,
And nothing can allay them but a slaughter,
A general massacre of all the Christians
That breath in his Dominion. I am the Engine
To worke this glorious wonder.
_Bellina_. Forefend it Heaven!
Last time you sat by me within my bower
I told you of a Pallace wall'd with gold.
_Hub_. I doe remember it.
_Bellina_. The floore of sparkling Diamonds, and the roofe
Studded with Stanes shining as bright as fire.
_Hub_. True.
_Bellina_. And I told you one day I would shew you
A path should bring you thither.
_Hub_. You did indeed.
_Bellina_. And will you now neglect a lease of this
To lye in a cold field, a field of murder?
Say thou shouldst kill ten thousand Christians;
They goe but as Embassadors to Heaven
To tell thy cruelties, and on yon Battlements
They all will stand on rowes, laughing to see
Thee fall into a pit as bottomlesse
As the Heavens are in extension infinite.
_Hub_. More, prethee, more: I had forgot this Musick.
_Bellina_. Say thou shouldst win the day, yet art thou lost,
For ever lost; an everlasting slave
Though thou com'st home a laurel'd Conqueror.
You courted me to love you; now I woe thee
To love thy selfe, to love a thing within thee
More curious than the frame of all this world,
More lasting than this Engine o're our heads,
Whose wheeles have mov'd so many thousand yeeres:
This thing is thy soule, for which I woe thee.
_Hub_. Thou woest, I yeeld, and in that yeelding love thee,
And for that love Ile be the Christians guide:
I am their Captaine, come, both _Goth_ and _Vandall_;
Nay, come the King, I am the Christians Generall.
_Bellina_. Not yet, till your Commission be faire drawne;
Not yet, till on your brow you beare the Print
Of a rich golden seale.
_Hub_. Get me that seale, then.
_Bellina_. There is an _Aqua fortis_ (an eating water)
Must first wash off thine infidelity,
And then th'art arm'd.
_Hub_. O let me, then, be arm'd.
_Bellina_. Thou shalt;
But on thy knees thou gently first shall sweare
To put no Armour on but what I beare.
_Hub_. By this chaste clasping of our hands I sweare.
_Bellina_. We then thus hand in hand will fight a battaile
Worth all the pitch-fields, all the bloody banquets,
The slaughter and the massacre of Christians,
Of whom such heapes so quickly never fell.
Brave onset! be thy end not terrible.
_Hub_. This kindled fire burne in us, till as deaths slaves
Our bodies pay their tributes to their graves.
[_Exeunt_.
(SCENE 2.)
_Enter Clowne and two Pagans_.
_Clown_. Come, fellow Pagans; death meanes to fare well to-day, for he
is like to have rost-meate to his supper, two principal dishes; many a
knight keepes a worse Table: first, a brave Generall Carbonadoed[165],
then a fat Bishop broyl'd, whose Rochet[166] comes in fryed for the
second course, according to the old saying, _A plumpe greazie Prelate
fries a fagot daintily_.
1 _Pag_. Oh! the Generall _Bellizarius_ for my money; hee has a fiery
Spirit, too; hee will roast soakingly within and without.
_Clown_. Methinks Christians make the bravest Bonefires of any people
in the Universe; as a _Jew_ burnes pretty well, but if you marke him he
burnes upward; the fire takes him by the Nose first.