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Slaves. A match.

[Exeunt.
(Thy dance antiquely, and
King. Hang up these slaves; I am mockt by her
and them;
They dance me into anger. Heard you not musicke?

Anton. Yes, sure, and most sweet melody.

Vict. 'Tis the heavens play
And the Clowdes dance for ioy thy cruelty

Has not tane hold upon me.

King. Hunger then shall:
Leade them away, dragge her to some loathed
dungeon

And for three days give her no food.

Load her with Irons.

Epi. They shall.

Eugen. Come, fellow souldiers, halfe the fight is past:
The bloodiest battell comes to an end at last.

[Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Epidophorus and Clowne.

Epi. Have any Christian soule broke from my
layle
This night, and gone i' the dark to find out heaven?
Are any of my hated prisoners dead?

Clown. Dead? yes; and five more come into the

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world instead of one. These Christians are like
Artichoaks of *Jerusalam*; they over-runne any ground
they grow in.

Epi. Are they so fruitfull ?

Clown. Fruitfull! a Hee Christian told me that
amongst them the young fellowes are such
Earing rioted¹ Rascals that they will runne into the
parke of Matrimony at sixteene; are Bucks of the
first head at eighteenes and by twenty carry in some
places their hornes on their backs.

Epi. On their backs? What kind of Christians are they?

Clown. Marry, these are Christian Butchers, who
when their Oxen are flead throw their skinnes on their
shoulders.

Epi. I thought they had beene Cuckolds.

Clown. Amongst them? no; there 's no woman,
that 's a true Christian, will horne her husband. There
dyed to night no lesse than six and a halfe in our
layle.

Epi. How? six and a halfe?

Clown. One was a girle of thirteene, with child.

Epi. Thy tidings fats me.

Clown. You may have one or two of 'em drest to
your Dinner to make you more fat.

Epi. Unhallowed slave! let a Jew eate Pork, when
I but touch a Christian.

Clown. You are not of my dyet: Would I had a
young Loyne of Porke to my Supper, and two Loynes
of a pretty sweate Christian after Supper.

Epi. Would thou mightst eate and choake.

Clown. Never at such meate; it goes downe without chawing.

¹ Quy. early-rioting.

240

*Epi.* We have a taske in hand, to kill a Serpent
Which spits her payson in our kingdomes face.
And that we speake not of (?) ; lives still
That Witch *Victoria*, wife to *Bellizarius* ?
Is Death afraid to touch the Hagge ? does hunger
Tremble to gnaw her flesh off, dry up her blood
And make her eate her selfe in Curses, ha ?

*Clown.* Ha ? your mouth gapes as if you would eate
me. The King commanded she should be laden
with Irons,—I have laid two load upon her; then to
pop her into the Dungeon,—I thrust her downe as
deepe as I could ; then to give her no meate,—alas
my cheekes cry out, I have meate little enough for
my selfe. Three days and three nights has her Cup-
board had no victuals in it ; I saw no lesse than Fifty
sixe Mice runne out of the hole she lies in, and
not a crumme of bread or bit of cheese amongst
them.

*Epi.* 'Tis the better.

*Clown.* I heard her one morning cough pittifully;
upon which I gave her a messe of Porredge piping-
hot.

*Epi.* Thou Dog, 'tis Death.

*Clown.* Nay but, Sir, I powr'd 'em downe scalding
as they were on her head, because they say they are
good for a cold, and I thinke that kill'd her ; for to try
if she were alive or no I did but even now tye a
Crust to a packe-threed on a pinne, but shee leapt
not at it ; so that I am sure shee's worms meate by
this.

*Epi.* Rewards in golden showers shall raine upon
us,
Be thy words true : fall downe and kisse the earth.

*Clown.* Kisse earth ? Why ? and so many wenches
come to the layle ?

241

*Epi.* Slave, downe and clap thy eare to the caves
mouth

And make me glad or heavy ; if she speake not
I shall cracke my ribs and spend my spleene in
laughter;

But if thou hearst her pant I am gon.

*Clown.* Farewell, then.

*Epi.* Breaths shee ?

*Clown.* No, Sir; her winde instrument is out of
tune.

*Epi.* Call, cal.

*Clown.* Do you heare, you low woman ? hold not
downe your head so for shame ; creepe not thus into a
corner, no honest woman loves to be fumbling thus in
the darke. Hang her ; she has no tongue.

*Epi.* Would twenty thousand of their sexe had
none.

*Clown.* Foxe, foxe, come out of your hole.

*An Angel ascends from the cave, singing.*

*Epi.* Horrour ! what's this ?

*Clown.* Alas, I know not what my selfe am.

## ANGEL SINGS.

*Fly, darknesse, fly in spight of Caves ;*

*Truth can thrust her armes through Graves.*

*No Tyrant shall confine*

*A white soule that's divine*

*And does more brightly shine*

*Than Moone or Sunne;*

*She lasts when they are done.*

*Epi.* I am bewitcht,
Mine Eyes faile me; lead me to [the] King.

2 H

244

Clown. She shall be gathered up.

[Exit. Epid. and Clowne.
(Victoria rises out of the cave, white.)]

Vict. What's the Kings will? I am here.
Are your tormentors ready to give battaile?
I am ready for them, and though I lose
My life hope to winne the day.

King. What art thou ?

Vict. An armed Christian.

King. What's thy name ?

Vict. Victoria: in my name there's conquest writ:
I therefore feare no threat[e]nings! but pray
That thou maist dye a good king.

Omnes. This is not she, Sir.

King. It is, but on her brow some Deity sits.
What are those Fayries dressing up her haire,
Whilst sweeter spirits dancing in her eyes

Bewitcheth me to them?

Enter Epidophorus, Bellizarius, Eugenius, and Clowne.

Oh Victoria, love me!
And see, thy Husband, now a slave whose life
Hangs at a needles poynt, shall live, so thou
Breath but the doome.—Trayters! what sorcerous
hand

Has built upon this inchantment of a Christian
To make me doat upon the beauty of it?

How comes she to this habite ? Went she thus in ?

Epi. No, Sir, mine owne hande stript her into rags.

Clown. For any meat shee has eaten her face
needes not make you doate; and for cleane linen Ile
sweare it was not brought into the Iaile, for there
they scorne to shift once a weeke.

245

King. Bellizarius, woe thy wife that she would
love me,
And thou shalt live.

Belliz. I will.—Victoria,
By all those chaste fires kindled in our bosomes
Through which pure love shin'd on our marriage
night;

Nay, with a bolder conjuration,
By all those thornes and bryers which thy soft feet
Tread boldly on to finde a path to heaven,
I begge of thee, even on my knee I beg,
That thou wouldst love this King, take him by th'
hand,

Warme his in thine, and hang about his necke,
And seale ten thousand kisses on his cheeke,
So he will tread his false gods under foote.

Omnes. Oh, horrible!

King. Bring tortures.

Belliz. So he will wash his soule white, as we doe,
And fight under our Banner (bloody red),
And hand in hand with us walke martyred.

Anton. They mocke you.
King. Stretch his body up by th' armes,
And at his feete hang plummets.

Clown. He shall be well shod for stroveling, I
warrant you.

Cosmo. Eugenius, bow thy knee before our Jove,
And the King gives thee mercy.

Dam. Else stripes and death.

Eugen. We come into the world but at one doore,
But twenty thousand gates stand open wide
To give us passage hence: death then is easie,
And I defie all tortures.

King. Then fasten the Cative;
I care not for thy wife: Get from mine eyes

246

Thou tempting Lamia. But, Bellisarius,
Before thy bodyes frame be puld in pieces,
Wilt thou forsake the errours thou art drencht in ?
Belliz. Errours ? thou blasphemous and godlesse
man,

From the great Axis maist thou as easie
With one arme plucke the Universall Globe,
As from my Center move me. There's my figure;
They are waves that beat a rock insensible
With an infatigable patience.

My breast dares all your arrowes; shoote,—shoote,
all;

Your tortures are but struck against the wall.
Which, backe rebounding, hit your selves.

King. Up with him.

Belliz. Lay on more wights; that hangman which
more brings

Addes active feathers to my soaring wings.

(They draw him up.)

King. Victoria, yet save him.

Vict. Keepe on thy flight,

And be a bird of Paradise.

Omnes. Give him more Irons.

Belliz. More, more.

King: Let him then goe; love thou and be my
Queene,

Daine but to love me.

Vict. I am going to live with a farre greater King.

King. Binde the coy strumpet; she dyes, too.

Let her braines be beaten on an Anvill :

For some new plagues for her !

Omnes. Vexe him.

Belliz. Doe more.

Vict. Heavens, pardon you.

Eugen. And strengthen him in all his sufferings.

247

## Two Angels descend.

### 2 ANGEL SINGS.

Come, oh come, oh come away;
A Quire of Angels for thee stay;
A home where Diamonds borrow light,
Open stands for thee this night,
Night? no, no; here is ever day:
Come, oh come, oh come, oh come away.

1 Ang. This battaile is thy last; fight well, and
winne

A Crowne set full of Starres,

Belliz. I spy an arme

Plucking [me] up to heaven; more wights, you are
best;

I shall be gone else.

Vict. Doe, Ile follow thee.

King. Is he not yet dispatcht?

Belliz. Yes, King, I thanke thee;

I have all my life time trod on rotten ground,
And still so deepe beene sinking that my soule
Was oft like to bee lost; but now I see
A guide, sweete guide, a blessed messenger
Who having brought me up a little way
Up yonder hill, I then am sure to buy
For a few stripes here rich eternity.

### 2 ANGEL SINGS.

Victory, victory! hell is beaten downe,
The Martyr has put on a golden Crowne;
Ring Bels of Heaven, him welcome hither,
Circle him Angels round together.

248

I *Angel*. Follow !

*Vict.* I will; what sacred voice cryes 'follow' !

I am ready: Oh send me after him.

*King*. Thou shall not,

Till thou hast fed my lust.

*Vict.* Thou foole, thou canst not ;

All my mortality is shaken off ;

My heart of flesh and blood is gone; my body

Is chang'd; this face is not that once was mine.

I am a Spirit, and no racke of thine

Can touch me.

*King*. Not a racke of mine shall touch thee.

Why should the world loose such a paire of Sunnes
As shine out from thine eyes? Why art thou cruel,

To make away thy selfe and murther mee?

Since whirle-winds cannot shake thee thou shall live,
And Ile fanne gentle gales upon thy face.

Fetch me a day bed, rob the earths perfumes

Of all the ravishing sweetes to feast her sence ;

Pillowes of roses shall beare up her head ;

O would a thousand springs might grow in one

To weave a flowry mantle o're her limbes

As she lyes downe.

*Enter two Angels about the bed.*

*Vict.* O that some rocke of Ice

Might fall on me and freeze me into nothing.

*King.* Enchant our [her?] eares with Musicke ;

would I had skill

To call the winged musitians of the aire

Into these roomes ! they all should play to thee

Till golden slumbers danc'd upon thy browes,

Watching to close thine eye-lids.

*Ang.* These Starres must shine no more; soule,

flye away.

249

Tyrant, enioy but a cold lumpe of clay.

*King.* My charmes worke; shee sleepes,

And lookes more lovely now she sleepes.

Against she wakes, Invention, grow thou poore,

Studying to finde a banquet which the gods

Might be invited to. I need not court her now

For a poor kisse; her lips are friendly now,

And with the warme breath sweeting all the Aire,

Draw mee thus to them.—Ha! the lips of Winter

Are not so cold.

*Anton.* She 's dead, Sir.

*King.* Dead ?

*Dam.* As frozen as if the North-winde had in

spight

Snatcht her hence from you.

*King.* Oh; I have murthered her!

Perfumes some creature kill: she has so long

In that darke Dungeon suck't pestiferous breath,

The sweete has stifled her. Take hence the body,

Since me it hated it shall feele my hate:

Cast her into the fire; I have lost her,

And for her sake all Christians shall be lost

That subiects are to me: massacre all,

But thou, *Eugenius*, art the last shall fall

This day; and in mine eye, though it nere see more,

Call on thy helper which thou dost adore.

*A Thunder-bolt strikes him.*

*Omnes.* The King is strucke with thunder !

*Eugen.* Thankes, Divine Powers ;

Yours be the triumph and the wonder ours.

*Anton.* Unbinde him till a new King fill the throne;
And he shall doome him.

*A Hubert, a Hubert, a Hubert!*

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