226

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:

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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

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his supper, two principal dishes; many a knight
keepes a worse Table: first, a brave Generall Car-
bonadoed,¹ then a fat Bishop broyl'd, whose Rochet²
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.

2 Pag. I know some Vintners then are *Jewes*

Clown. Now, as your *Jew* burnes upward, your
French-man burnes downewards like a Candle and
commonly goes out with a stinke like a snuffe; and
what socket soever it light in it, must be well cleans'd
and pick't before it can be us'd agen. But Bel-
lizarius, the brave Generall, will flame high and
cleare like a Beacon; but your Puritane Eugenius
will burne blew, blew like a white-bread sop in Aqua
Vitæ. Fellow Pagans, I pray let us agree among
ourselves about the sharing of those two.

2 Pag. I, 'tis fit.

Clown. You know I am worshipfull by my place;
the under-keeper may write Equire if he list at the

¹ ‘Carbonardoed’—cut into collops for grilling: a common expression.

2. ‘Rochet.’ “A linen vest, like a surplice, worn by bishops, under their satin robes. The word, it is true, is not obsolete, nor the thing disused, but it is little known.”—Nares. (“Lent unto thomas Dowton, the 11 of Aprel 1598, to bye taſtie to macke a Rochet for the beshoppe in earlle good wine, xxiiiis.” Henslowe's Diary, ed. Collier, p. 122.)

229

bottome of the paper: I doe cry first the Generalls
great Scarfe to make me a short Summer-cloake,
and the Bishops wide sleeves to make me a Holy-
dayes shirt.

1 Pag. Having a double voyce we cannot abridge
you of a double share.

Clown. You, that so well know what belongs to
reverence, the Breeches be¹ yours, whether Bishops
or Generalls; but with this Provizo, because we will
all share of both parties, as I have lead the way, I
clayming the Generalls and the Bishops sleeves, so he
that chuses the Generalls Doublet shall weare the
Generalls Breeches.

2 Pag. A match.

Clown. Nay, 'twill be farre from a match, that's
certaine; but it will make us to be taken for men of
note, what company soever we come in.

The Souldier and the Scholler, peckt up so,
Will make tam Marti quam Mercurio. [Exeunt.

(SCENE 3.)

Enter the King, Antony, Damianus, and Cosmo;
Victoria meetes the King.

Vict. As you are Vice-gerent to that Maiesty
By whom Kings reigne on earth, as you would wish
Your heires should sit upon your Throne, your name
Be mentioned in the Chronicle of glory;
Great King, vouchsafe me hearing.

King. Speake.

Vict. My husband,
The much, too much wrong'd Bellizarius,

¹ 4to by.

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Hath not deserv'd the measure of such misery
Which is throwne on him. Call, oh call to minde
His service, how often he hath fought
And toyl'd in warres to give his Country peace.
He has not beene a flatterer of the Time,
Nor Courted great ones for their glorious Vices;
He hath not sooth'd blinde dotage in the World,
Nor caper'd on the Common-wealths dishonour;
He has not peeld the rich nor flead the poore,
Nor from the heart-strings of the Commons drawne
Profit to his owne Coffers; he never brib'd
The white intents of mercy; never sold
Justice for money, to set up his owne
And utterly undoe whole families.
Yet some such men there are that have done thus:
The mores the pitty.

King. To the poynt.

Vict. Oh, Sir,

Bellizarius has his wounds emptied of blood,
Both for his Prince and Countrey: to repeat
Particulars were to do inury

To your yet mindfull gratitude. His Life,
His liberty, 'tis that I plead for—that;
And since your enemies and his could never
Captive the one and triumph in the other,
Let not his friends—his King—commend a cruelty,
Strange to be talkt of, cursed to be acted.
My husband, oh ! my husband Bellizarius,
For him I begge.

King. Lady, rise up; we will be gracious
To thy suit,—Cause Bellizarius
And the Bishop be brought hither instantly.

[Exit for him.

Vict. Now all the blessings due to a good King
Crowne you with lasting honours.

231

King. If thou canst

Perswade thy husband to recant his errours,
He shall not onely live, but in our favoures
Be chiefe. Wilt undertake it ?

Vict. Undertake it, Sir,

On these conditions? You shall your selfe
Be witnessne with what instance I will urge him
To pitty his owne selfe, recant his errours.

Anton. So doing he will purchase many friends.

Dam. Life, love, and liberty.

Vict. But tell me, pray, Sir;

What are those errours which he must recant?

King. His hatred to those powers to which we
bow,

On whom we all depend, he has kneel'd to them;
Let him his base Apostacy recant,
Recant his being a Christian, and recant
The love he beares to Christians.

Vict. If he deny

To doe all this, or any poynt of this,
Is there no mercy for him?

King. Couldst thou shed

A Sea of teares to drowne my resolution,
He dyes; could this fond man lay at my foote
The kingdomes of the earth, he dyes; he dyes
Were he my sonne, my father. Bid him recant,
Else all the Torments cruelty can invent
Shall fall on him.

Vict. No sparke of pitty ?

King. None.

Vict. Well, then, but mark what paines Ile take to
winne him,

To winne him home; Ile set him in a way
The Clouds shall clap to finde what went astray.

Anton. Doe this, and we are all his.

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For a few minutes in a Tyrants eye;
Be valiant and meete death: if thou now losest
Thy portion laid up for thee yonder, yonder,
For breath or honours here, oh thou dost sell
Thy soule for nothing. Recant all this,
And then be rais'd up to a Throne of blis.
Anton. We are abus'd, stop her mouth,
Belliz. Victoria,
Thou nobly dost confirme me, hast new arm'd
My resolution, excellent Victoria.
Eugen. Oh happy daughter, thou in this dost bring
That Requiem to our soules which Angels sing.
Dam. Can you endure this wrong, Sir?
Cosmo. Be out-brav'd by a seducing Strumpet?
King. Binde her fast;

Weele try what recantation you can make.
Hagge, in the presence of your brave holy Champion
And thy Husband,
One of my Cammell drivers shall take from thee
The glory of thy honesty and honour.
Call in the Peasant.
Vict. Bellizarius,
Eugenius, is there no guard above us
That will protect me from a rape? 'tis worse
Than worlds of tortures.

Eugen. Fear not, Victoria;
Be thou a chaste one in thy minde, thy body
May like a Temple of well tempered steele
Be batter'd, not demolishe'd.
Belliz. Tyrant, be mercifull;
And if thou hast no other vertue in thee
Deserving memory to succeeding ages,
Yet onely thy not suffering such an out-rage
Shall adde praise to thy name.

King. Where is the Groome?

235

Eugen. Oh sure the Sunne will darken
And not behold a deed so foule and monstrous.

Enter Epidophorus with a Slave.

Epi. Here is the Cammell driver.

Omnes. Stand forth, sirrah.

Epi. Be bould and shrink not; this is she.

I Cam. And I am hee. Is't the kings pleasure
that
I should mouse¹ her, and before all these people?

King. No; 'tis considered better; unbinde the
fury
And dragge her to some corner; 'tis our pleasure,
Fall to thy businesse freely.

I Cam. Not too freely neither: I fare hard and
drinke water; so doe the Indians, yet who fuller of
Bastards? so doe the Turkes, yet who gets greater
Logger-heads? Come, wench; Ile teach thee how to
cut up wild fowle.

Vict. Guard me, you heavens.

Belliz. Be mine eyes lost for ever.

I Cam. Is that her husband?

Epi. Yes.

I Cam. No matter; some husbands are so base, they
keepe the doore whilst they are Cuckolded; but this
is after a more manlier way, for he stands bound to
see it done.

King. Haile her away.

I Cam. Come, Pusse! Haile her away? which way ?
yon way ? my Camells backs cannot climbe it.

¹ The subst. *mouse* is sometimes found as an innocent term of endearment, but more often in a wanton sense (like the Lat. *passer*).

236

Anton. The fellow is struck mad.

1 Cam. That way? it looks into a Mill-pond,
Whirre! how the Wheels goe and the Divell
grindes.

No, this way.

King. Keepe the slave back!

1 Cam. Backe, keep me backe! there sits my wife
kembing her haire, which curles like a witches felt-
locks!¹ all the Neets in 't are Spiders, and all the
Dandruffe the sand of a Scriveners Sand-boxe.
Stand away; my whore shall not be lousie; let me
come noynt her with Stavesucre.²

King. Defend me, lop his hands off!

Omnes. Hew him in pieces

King. What has he done?

Anton. Sir, beate out his owne brains.

Vict. You for his soule must answer.

King. Fetch another.

Eugen. Tempt not the wrath supernall to fall
downe

And crush thee in thy throne.

Enter 2 Cammell drivers.

King. Peace, sorcerous slave :

Sirra, take hence this Witch and ravish her.

2 Cam. A Witch ? Witches are the Divels sweete hearts.

¹ 'Felt locks'—matted locks, commonly called “elf-locks”:
the various forms “felted,” “felter'd” and “feutred” are found.

² 'Stavesucre' (said to be a corruption of σορασίς and usually written 'Staves-acre') a kind of lark-spur considered efficacious in destroying lice. Cf. Marlowe's *Dr. Faustus* (i. 4)—'Stavesacre? that's good to kill vermin; then belike, if I serve you, I shall be lousy.'

237

King. Doe it, be thou Master of much gold.

2 Cam. Shall I have gold to doe it? in some
Countries I heare whole Lordships are spent upon a
fleshly device, yet the buyer in the end had nothing
but French Repentance and the curse of Chyrurgery
for his money. Let me finger my gold; Ile venture
on, but not give her a penny. Womans flesh was
never cheaper; a man may eate it without bread; all
Trades fall, so doe they.

Epi. Look you, Sir, there's your gold.

2 Cam. Ile tell money after my father. Oh I am strucke blinde !

Omnes. The fellow is bewitcht, Sir.

Eugen. Great King, impute not
This most miraculous delivery
To witch-craft; 'tis a gentle admonition
To teach thy heart obey it.

King. Lift up the slave;
Though he has lost his sight, his feeling is not;
He dyes unlesse he ravish her.

Epi. Force her into thy armes or else thou dyest.

2 Cam. I have lost my hearing, too,

King. Fetch other slaves.

Epi. Thou must force her.

2 Cam. Truely I am hoarse with driving my
Cammells, and nothing does me good but sirop of
Horehound.

Enter two Slaves.

Epi. Here are two slaves will doe it indeed.

2. Which is shee ?

King. This creature; she has beauty to intice you
And enough to feast you all; seize her all three
And ravish her by turnes.