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Hub. Thy vowes I seale, be thou my ghostly
Tutor;

And, all my actions levell'd to thy thoughts,
I am thy Creature.

Bellina. Let Heaven, too, but now propitious prove
And for thy soule thou hast wonne a happy love.
Come, shall we to my Father.

[Exeunt.
(Soft Musick.)

(SCENE 4.)

Enter the King on his bed, two Physitians, Anthony
Damianus and Cosmo.

King. Are you Physitians?

Are you those men that proudly call your selves
The helps of Nature?

Ant. Oh, my good Lord, have patience.

King. What should I doe ? lye like a patient Asse ?

Feele my selfe tortur'd by this diffused poyson,
But tortur'd more by these unsavoury drugges?

Ant. Come one of you your selves and speake to
him.

1 Phys. How fares your Highnesse?

King. Never worse:—What's he?

Dami. One of your Highnesse Doctors.

King. Come, sit neare me;

Feele my pulse once again and tell me, Doctor,
Tell me in tearmes that I may understand,—
I doe not love your gibberish,—tell me honestly
Where the Cause lies, and give a Remedy,
And that with speed; or in despight of Art,
Of Nature, you and all your heavenly motions,
Ile recollect so much of life into me
As shall give space to see you tortur'd.

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Some body told me that a Bath of mans blood
Would restore me. Christians shall pay for 't;
Fetch the Bishop hither, he shall begin.

Cosm. Hee's gone for.

King. What's my disease?

1 Phys. My Lord, you are poyson'd.

King. I told thee so my selfe, and told thee how :
But what's the reason that I have no helpe?
The Coffers of my Treasury are full,
Or, if they were not, tributary Christians
Bring in sufficient store to pay your fees,
If that you gape at.

2 Phys. Wilt please your Highnesse then to take
this Cordiall?

Gold never truely did you good till now,
King. 'Tis gone.

2 Phys. My Lord, it was the perfectst tincture
Of Gold that ever any Art produc'd :
With it was mixt a true rare Quintessence
Extracted out of Orientall Bezar,¹

And with it was dissolv'd the Magisteriall
Made of the Horne Armenia so much boast of;
Which, though dull Death had usurp't Natures right,
Is able to create new life agen.

King. Why does it good on men and not on
Kings?
We have the selfe-same passages for Nature
With mortall men; our pulses beate like theirs:
We are subiect unto passions as they are.
I finde it now, but to my griefe I finde,
Life stands not with us on such ticklish points,

¹ For an account of the "bezoar nut" and the Unicorn's horn vid. Sir Thomas Browne's "Vulgar Errors," book iii. cap. xxiii.

2 E

218

What is 't, because we are Kings, Life takes it leave
With greater state ? No, no ; the envious Gods
Maligne our happinese. Oh that my breath had
power

With my last words to blast their Deities.

1 *Phys.* The Cordiall that you tooke requires rest :
For healths sake, good my Lord, repose your selfe.

*King.* Yes, any thing for health; draw round the
Curtaines.

*Dami.* Wee'le watch by him whilst you two doe
consult.

1 *Phys.* What guesse you by that Urine?

2 *Phys.* Surely Death!

1 *Phys.* Death certaine, without contradiction,
For though the Urin be a whole and lies,
Yet where I finde her in all parts agree
With other Symtomes of apparent death
Ile give her faith. Pray, Sir, doe but marke
These black Hypostacies ;¹ it plainely shewes
Mortification generally through the spirits;
And you may finde the Pulse to shew as much
By his uncertainty of time and strength.

2 *Phys.* We find the spirits often suffisticated
By many accidents, but yet not mortified ;
A sudden feare will doe it.

1 *Phys.* Very right ;
But there's no malitious humour mixt
As in the king : Sir, you must understand

A Scorpion stung him : now a Scorpion is
A small compacted creature in whom Earth
Hath the predominance, but mixt with fire,
So that in him Saturne and Mars doe meet.

This little Creature hath his severall humours,

¹ Vid. Liddell and Scott, s. v. ὑπόστασις.

219

And these their excrements; these met together,
Enflamed by anger, made a deadly poison;
And by how much the creatures body's lesse
By so much is the force of Venome more,
As Lightning through a windows Casement
Hurts more than that which enters at the doore.

2 *Phys.* But for the way to cure it?

1 *Phys.* I know none;
Yet Ancient Writers have prescrib'd us many :
As *Theophrastus* holds most excellent

Diophoratick ¹ Medicines to expell
Ill vapours from the noble parts by sweate;
But *Avices* and also *Rabby Roses* ²

Doe thinke it better by provoking Urin,
Since by the Urine blood may well be purg'd,
And spirits from the blood have nutriment,
But for my part I ever held opinion
In such a case the Ventosities are best.

2 *Phys.* They are indeed, and they doe farre
exceed—

1 *Phys.* All the great curious Cataphlasmes,
Or the live taile of a deplum[e]d Henne,
Or your hot Pigeons or your quartered whelpes; ³
For they by a meere forc'd attractive power
Retaine that safely which by force was drawne,
Whereas the other things I nam'd before
Do lose their vertue as they lose their heat.

¹ Sc. diaphoretick (*διαφορητικός*), causing perspiration.

² *Rabby Roses* is no doubt a corruption of *Averroes*, the famous editor of Aristotle, and author of numerous treatises on theological and medical subjects.

³ *Sir Thomas Browne (Vulgar Errors, I. vii.) quotes from Pierius another strange cure for a scorpion's bite,—“to sit upon an ass with one's face towards his tail, for so the pain leaveth the man and passeth into the beast.”*

220

2 *Phys.* The ventosities shall be our next intensions.

*Anton.* Pray, Gentlemen, attend his Highnesse.

*King.* Your next intentions be to drowne your
selves:

Dogge-leaches all! I see I am not mortall,
For I with patience have thus long endur'd
Beyond the strength of all mortality;

But now the thrice heate furnace of my bosome

Disdaineth bounds: doe not I scorch you all?

Goe, goe, you are all but prating Mountebankes,

Quack-salvers and Imposures; get you all from me.

2 *Phys.* These Ventosities, my lord, will give you ease.

*King.* A vengeance on thy Ventosities and thee!

*Enter Eugenius.*

*Anton.* The Bishop, Sir, is come.

*King.* Christian, thy blood

Must give me ease and helpe.

*Eugen.* Drinke then thy fill:

None of the Fathers that begot sweet Physick,
That Divine Lady, comforter to man,
Invented such a medicine as man's blood;

A drinke so pretious should not be so spilt:

Take mine, and Heaven pardon you the guilt.

*King.* A Butcher! see his throat cut.

*Eugen.* I am so farre from shrinking that mine
owne hands

Shall bare my throat; and am so farre from wishing
Ill to you that mangle me, that before

My blood shall wash these Rushes,
King, I will cure thee.

1 *Phys.* You cure him?

*King.* Speak on, fellow.

*Eugen.*

If I doe not

221

Restore your limbs to soundnesse, drive the poyson

From the infected part, study your tortures

To teare me peece-meale yet be kept alive.

*King.* O reverent man, come neare me; worke this
wonder,

Aske gold, honours, any, any thing
The sublunary treasures of this world

Can yeeld, and they are thine.

*Eugen.* I will doe nothing without a recompence.

*King.* A royall one.

*Omnes.* Name what you would desire.

*King.* Stand by; you trouble him.

A recompence can my Crowne bring thee, take it;
Reach him my Crowne and plant it on his head.

*Eugen.* No; here's my bargaine—

*King.* Quickly, oh speake quickly.—

Off with the good man's Irons.

*Eugen.* Free all those Christians which are now
thy slaves,

In all thy Cittadels, Castles, Fortresses;

Those in *Bellanna* and *Mersaganna*,

Those in *Alempha* and in *Hazanoth*,

Those in thy Gallies, those in thy Iayles and Dungeons.

*King.* Those any where: my signet, take my signet,
And free all on your lives, free all the Christians.
What dost thou else desire?

*Eugen.* This; that thy selfe trample upon thy
Pagan Gods.

*Omnes.* Sir!

*King.* Away.

*Eugen.* Wash your soule white by wading in the
streame

Of Christian gore.

*King.*

I will turne Christian.

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*Dam.* Better wolves worry this accursed—
*King.* Better

Have Bandogs¹ worry all of you, than I
To languish in a torment that feedes on me
As if the Furies bit me. Ile turn Christian,
And, if I doe not, let the Thunder pay
My breach of promise. Cure me, good old man,
And I will call thee father; thou shall have
A king come kneeling to thee every Morning
To take a blessing from thee, and to heare thee
Salute him as a sonne.

When, when is this wonder?

*Eugen.* Now; you are well, Sir.

*King.* Ha!

*Eugen.* Has your paine left you?

*King.* Yes; see else, *Damianus, Antony,*
*Cosmo*; I am well.

*Omnes.* He does it by incantment.

¹ *Phys.* By meere Witch-Craft.

*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?

¹ “Bandogs” (or, more correctly speaking, “band-dogs”)—
dogs that had to be kept chained on account of their feroceness.

223

*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 man¹ chosen
out

From all our *Vandal* Leaders to be chiefe
O'er a new army, which the King will raise

¹ 4to men.

224

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 terour
As if a thick-growne Forrest by enchantment

225

Were made to move, and all the Trees should meete
Pell mell, and rive their beaten bulkes in sunder,
As petty Towers doe being flunge 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 !

2 F