The Noble Spanish Soldier (The Noble Soldier, or A Contract Broken Justly Revenged) <date type="creation_date">1634</date> Rowley, Samuel This text is one of some 500 EEBO-TCP transcriptions of Early Modern plays that have undergone several routines to create an interoperable and algorithmically amenable corpus of Early Modern Drama. Many incompletely or incorrectly transcribed words, as well as obvious printers' errors have been corrected, but the text has not been proofread word by word. See the editorial declaration further down in the header for more details about this edition. Martin Mueller Incompletely or incorrectly transcribed words were reviewed and in many cases fixed by Hannah Bredar Lydia Zoells Yixin Xiao Martin Mueller
Department of English Northwestern University Evanston IL 60208
Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License 2015 SHC-163-A11145.xml The noble souldier. Or, A contract broken, justly reveng'd. A tragedy. Written by S.R. Rowley, Samuel, d. 1633? 32 600dpi TIFF G4 page images University of Michigan, Digital Library Production Service Ann Arbor, Michigan 2003 May (TCP phase 1) 99851477 STC (2nd ed.) 21416. Greg, II, 490. 16751 A11145

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 The noble souldier. Or, A contract broken, justly reveng'd. A tragedy. Written by S.R. Noble soldier Noble Spanish souldier. Contract broken, justly reveng'd. Rowley, Samuel, d. 1633? Dekker, Thomas, ca. 1572-1632, Day, John, 1574-1640?. [64] p. Printed [by John Beale] for Nicholas Vavasour, and are to be sold at his shop in the Temple, neere the Church, London : 1634.

S.R. = Samuel Rowley; but often attributed to Thomas Dekker, and possibly revised by him from a work by Rowley. Probably with additions by John Day.

Partly in verse.

Printer's name from STC.

Signatures: A-H4.

The first leaf is blank.

Running title reads: The noble Spanish souldier.

The goal of this project is

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THE NOBLE SOVLDIER . OR , A CONTRACT BROKEN , JUSTLY REVENG'D .

A TRAGEDY .

Written by S. R.

— Non est , Lex Iustior Vlla , Quam Nescis Artifices , Arte perire Sua .

LONDON : Printed for Nicholas Vavasour , and are to be sold at his shop in the Temple , neere the Church . 1634 .

The PRINTER to the READER .

VNderstanding Reader , I present this to your view , which has received applause in Action . The Poet might conceive a compleat satisfaction upon the Stages approbation : But the Printer rests not there , knowing that that which was acted and approved upon the Stage , might bee no lesse acceptable in Print . It is now communicated to you whose leisure and knowledge admits of reading and reason : Your Iudgement now this Posthumus assures himselfe will well attest his predecessors endevours to give content to men of the ablest quality , such as intelligent readers are here conceived to be . I could have troubled you with a longer Epistle , but I feare to stay you from the booke , which affords better words and matter than I can . So the work modestly depending in the skale of your Iudgement , the Printer for his part craves your pardon , hoping by his promptnesse to doe you greater service , as conveniency shall enable him to give you more or better testimony of his entirenesse towards you .

N V.
Drammatis Personae . KIng of Spaine . Cardinall . Duke of Medina . Dons of Spayne , Marquesse Daeania . Alba . Roderigo . Valasce . Lopez Queene , A Florentine . Onelia , Neece to Medina , the Contracted Lady . Sebastian Her Sonne . Malateste A Florentine . Baltazar The Souldier . A Poet . Cockadillio A foolish Courtier . A Fryer .
THE NOBLE SPANISH SOVLDIER :
Actus Primus .
Scaena Prima . Enter in Magnificent state , to the sound of lowd musicke , the King and Queene , as from Church , attended by the Cardinall , Count Malateste , Daenia , Roderigo , Valasco , Alba , Carlo , and some waiting Ladies . The King and Queene with Courtly Complements salute and part ; she with one halfe attending her : King , Cardinall , and th'other halfe stay , the King seeming angry and desirous to be rid of them too . — King Cardinall , Daenia , &c. K. GIve us what no man here is master of , ( Breath ) leave us pray , my father Cardinall Can by the Physicke of Philosophy et al agen in order . Leave us , pray . exeunt Car. How is it with you , Sir ? Kin. As with a Shippe Now beat with stormes , now safe , the stormes are vanisht , And having you my Pylot , I not onely See shore , but harbour ; I , to you will open The booke of a blacke sinne , deepe-printed in me : Oh father ! my disease lyes in my soule . Card. The old wound , Sir ? Kin. Yes that , it festers inward : For though I have a beauty to my bed That even Creation envies at , as wanting Stuffe to make such another , yet on her pillow I lye by her , but an Adulterer , And she as an Adulteresse , Shee's my Queene And wife , yet but my strumpet , tho the Church Set on the seale of Mariage ; good Onaelia , Neece to our Lord high Constable of Spaine , Was precontracted mine . Card. Yet when I stung Your Conscience with remembrance of the Act , Your eares were deafe to counsell . Kin. I confesse it . Car. Now to unty the knot with your new Queene Would shake your Crowne halfe from your head . Kin, Even Troy ( Tho she hath wept her eyes out ) wud find teares To wayle my kingdomes ruines . Car. What will you doe then ? Kin. She has that Contract written , seal'd by you , And other Churchmen ( witnesses untoo't ) A kingdome should be given for that paper . Card. I wud not , for what lyes beneath the Moone , Be made a wicked Engine to breake in pieces That holy Contract . Kin. 'Tis my soules ayme to tye it Vpon a faster knot . Car. I doe not see How you can with safe conscience get it from her . Kin. Oh! I know I wrastle with a Lyonesse : to imprison her , And force her too't , I dare not : death ! what King Did ever say I dare not ? I must have it : A Bastard have I by her , and that Cocke Will have ( I feare ) sharpe spurres , if he crow after Him that trod for him : something must be done Both to the Henne and Chicken ; haste you therefore To sad Onaelia , tell her I'me resolv'd To give my new Hawke bells , and let her flye : My Queene I'me weary of , and her will marry : To this our Text adde you what glosse you please , The secret drifts of Kings are depthlesse Seas . Exeunt . A Table set out cover'd with blacke : two waxen Tapers : the Kings Picture at one end , a crucifix at the other , Onaelia walking discontentedly weeping to the Crucifix , her Mayd with her , to them Cornego .
Song , Quest. Oh sorrow , sorrow , say where dost thou dwell ? Answ. In the lowest roome of Hell . Quest. Art thou borne of Humane Race ? Answ. No , no , I have a furier face . Quest. Art thou in City , Towne or Court ? Answ. I to every place resort . Quest. Oh why into the world is sorrow sent ? Answ. Men afflicted , best repent . Quest. What dost thou feed on ? Answ. Broken sleepe . Quest. What tak'st thou pleasure in ? Answ. To weepe , To sigh , to sob , to pine , to groane , To wring my hands , to sit alone . Quest. Oh when ? oh when shall sorrow quiet have ? Answ. Never , never , never , never , Never till she finds a Grave .
Enter Cornego . Corn.

No lesson , Madam , but Lacrymae's ? if you had buried nine husbands , so much water as you might squeeze out of an Onyon had beene teares enow to cast away upon fellowes that cannot thanke you , come be Ioviall .

Onae. Sorrow becomes me best . Corn. A suit of laugh and lye downe would weare better . Onae. What should I doe to be merry , Cornego ? Corn. Be not sad . Ona. But what's the best mirth in the world ? Corn.

Marry this , to see much , say little , doe little , get little , spend little , and want nothing .

Onae. Oh but there is a mirth beyond all these : This Picture has so vex'd me , I'me halfe mad , To spite it therefore I'le sing any song Thy selfe shalt tune ; say then what mirth is best ? Corn.

Why then , Madam , what I knocke out now is the very Maribone of mirth , and this it is .

Onae.

Say on .

Corn.

The best mirth for a Lawyer is to have fooles to his Clients : for Citizens , to have Noblemen pay their debts : for Taylors to have store of Sattin brought in , for then how little soere their houses are , they'll bee sure to have large yards : the best mirth for bawds is to have fresh handsome whores , and for whores to have rich guls come aboard their pinnaces , for then they are sure to build Gally-Asles .

Onae.

These to such soules are mirth , but to mine none : Away .

Exit . Enter Cardinall . Car. Peace to you , Lady . Onae. I will not sinne so much as hope for peace , And tis a mocke ill suits your gravity . Car. I come to knit the nerves of your lost strength , To build your ruines up , to set you free From this your voluntary banishment , And give new being to your murdred same . Onae. What Aeseulapius can doe this ? Car. The King — tis from the King I come ? Onae. A name I hate ; Oh I am deafe now to your Embassie . Car. Heare what I speake . Onae. Your language breath'd from him Is deaths sad doome upon a wretch condemn'd . Car. Is it such poyson ? Onae. Yes , and were you christall , What the King fills you with , wud make you breake : You should ( my Lord ) be like these robes you we are , ( Pure as the Dye ) and like that reverend shape ; Nurse thoughts as full of honour , zeale , and purity ; You should be the Court-Diall , and direct The King with constant motion , be ever beating ( Like to Clocke-Hammers ) on his Iron heart To make it sound cleere , and to feele remorse You should unlocke his soule , wake his dead conscience , Which like a drowsie Centinell gives leave For sinnes vast army to beleaguer him ; His ruines will be ask'd for at your hands . Car. I have rais'd up a scaffolding to save Both him and you from falling , doe but heare me . Onae. Be dumbe for ever . Car. Let your feares thus dye : By all the sacred relliques of the Church , And by my holy Orders , what I minister Is even the spirit of health . Onae. I'le drinke it downe into my soule at once . Car. You shall . Onae. But sweare . Car. What Conjurations can more bind mine oath ? Onae. But did you sweare in earnest ? Car. Come , you trifle . Onae. No marvell , for my hopes have bin so drown'd , I still despaire : Say on . Car. The King repents . Onae. Pray that agen , my Lord . Car. The King repents . Onae. His wrongs to me ? Car. His wrongs to you : the sense Of sinne has pierc'd his soule . Onae. Blest penitence ! Car. ' Has turnd his joyes into his leprous bosome , And like a King vowes execution On all his traiterous passions . Onae. God-like Iustice ! Car. Intends in person presently to begge Forgivenesse for his Acts of heaven and you . Onae. Heaven pardon him , I shall . Car. Will marry you . Onae. Vmh ! marry me ? will he turne Bigamist ? When , when ? Car. Before the morrow Sunne hath rode Halfe his dayes journey ; will send home his Queene As one that staines his bed , and can produce Nothing but bastard Issue to his Crowne : Why how now ? lost in wonder and amazement ? Onae. I am so stor'd with joy that I can now Strongly weare out more yeares of misery Then I have liv'd . Enter King . Car. You need not : here's the King . Kin. Leave us . Exit Card. Onae. With pardon , Sir , I will prevent you , And charge upon you first . Kin. 'Tis granted , doe : But stay , what meane these Embleames of distresse ? My Picture so defac'd ! oppos'd against A holy Crosse ! roome hung in blacke ! and you Drest like chiefe Mourner at a Funerall ? Onae. Looke backe upon your guilt ( deare Sir ) and then The cause that now seemes strange , explaines it selfe : This , and the Image of my living wrongs Is still confronted by me to beget Griefe like my shame , whose length may outlive Time : This Crosse , the object of my wounded soule , To which I pray to keepe me from despaire ; That ever as the sight of one throwes up Mountaines of sorrowes on my accursed head : Turning to that , Mercy may checke despaire , And bind my hands from wilfull violence . Kin. But who hath plaid the Tyrant with me thus ? And with such dangerous spite abus'd my picture ? Onae. The guilt of that layes claime , Sir , to your selfe , For being by you ransack'd of all my fame , Rob'd of mine honour , and deare chastity , Made by you act the shame of all my house , The hate of good men , and the scorne of bad , The song of Broome-men , and the murdering vulgar , And left alone to beare up all these ills By you begun , my brest was fill'd with fire , And wrap'd in just disdaine , and like a woman On that dumb picture wreak'd I my passions . Kin. And wish'd it had beene I . Onae. Pardon me , Sir , My wrongs were great , and my revenge swell'd high . Kin. I will descend , and cease to be a King , To leave my judging part , freely confessing Thou canst not give thy wrongs too ill a name . And here to make thy apprehension full , And seat thy reason in a sound beleefe , I vow to morrow ( e're the rising Sunne Begin his journey ) with all Ceremonies Due to the Church , to seale our nuptials , To prive thy sonne with full consent of State , Spaines heire Apparant , borne in wedlocke vowes . Onae. And will you sweare to this ? Kin. By this I sweare . Ona. Oh you have sworne false oathes upon that booke . Kin. Why then by this . Onae. Take heed you print it deeply : How for your Concubine ( Bride I cannot say ) She staines your bed with blacke Adultery : And though her fame maskes in a fairer shape Then mine to the worlds eye , yet ( King ) you know Mine honour is lesse strumpetted than hers , How-ever butcher'd in opinion . Kin. This way for her , the Contract which thou hast By best advice of all our Cardinals , To day shall be enlarg'd , till it be made Past all dissolving : then to our Counsell-Table Shall she be call'd , that read aloud , she told The Church commands her quicke returne for Florence , With such a dower as Spaine received with her , And that they will not hazard heavens dire curse To yeeld to a match unlawfull , which shall taint , The issue of the King with Bastardy : This done , in state Majesticke come you forth ( Our new crown'd Queene ) in sight of all our Peeres : Are you resolv'd ? Onae. To doubt of this were Treason , Because the King has sworne it . Kin. And will keepe it : Deliver up the Contract then , that I May make this day end with thy misery . Onae. Here , as the dearest Iewell of my fame , Lock'd I this parchment from all viewing eyes , This your Indenture held alone the life Of my suppos'd dead honour ; yet ( behold ) Into your hands I redeliver it . Oh keepe it , Sir , as you should keepe that vow , To which ( being sign'd by heaven ) even Angels bowe . Kin. Tis in the Lions paw , and who dares snatch it ? Now to your Beads and Crucifix agen . Onae. Defend me heaven ! Kin. Pray there may come Embassadors from France , Their followers are good Customers . Onae. Save me from madnesse ! Kin. 'Twill raise the price , being the Kings Mistris . Onae. You doe but counterfeit to mocke my joyes . Kin. Away bold strumpet . Onae. Are there eyes in heaven to see this ? Kin. Call and try , here's a whores curse , To fall in that beleefe which her sinnes nurse . Exit . Enter Cornego . Cor.

How now ? what quarter of the Moone has she cut out now ? my Lord puts me into a wise office , to be a mad womans keeper : why madam !

Onae. Ha! where is the King , thou slave ? Cor. Let go your hold , or I'le fall upon you as I am a man . Onae. Thou treacherous caitiffe , where's the King ? Cor. Hee's gone , but not so farre gone as you are . Onae. Cracke all in sunder , oh you Battlements , And grind me into powder . Cor.

What powder ? come , what powder ? when did you ever see a woman grinded into powder ? I am sure some of your sex powder men and pepper 'em too .

Onae. Is there a vengeance Yet lacking to my ruine ? let it fall , Now let it fall upon me ? Cor. No , there has too much falne upon you already . Onae. Thou villaine , leave thy hold , I'le follow him : Like a rais'd ghost I'le haunt him , breake his sleepe , Fright him as hee's embracing his new Leman , Till want of rest bids him runne mad and dye , For making oathes Bawds to his perjury . Cor.

Pray be more season'd , if he made any Bawds he did ill , for there is enough of that flye-blowne flesh already .

Onae. I'me now left naked quite : All's gone , all , all . Cor. No Madam , not all , for you cannot be rid of mee : Here comes your Vncle . Enter Medina . Onae. Attir'd in robes of vengeance , Are you , Vncle ? Med. More horrors yet ? Onae. Twas never full till now ; And in this torrent all my hopes lye drown'd . Med. Instruct me in the cause . Onae. The King , the Contract ! Exit . Cor. There's cud enough for you to chew upon . Exit . Med. What's this ? a riddle ! how ? the King , the Contract ! The mischiefe I divine , which proving true , Shall kindle fires in Spaine to melt his Crowne Even from his head : here's the decree of Fate , A blacke deed must a blacke deed expiate . Exit .
Actus Secundus ,
Scoena Prima . Enter Baltazar slighted by Dons . Bal. THou god of good Apparell , what strange fellowes Are bound to doe thee honour ! Mercers books Shew mens devotions to thee ; heaven cannot hold A Saint so stately : Doe not my Dons know me Because I'me poore in clothes ? stood my beaten Taylor Playting my rich hose , my silke stocking-man Drawing upon my Lordships Courtly calfe Payres of Imbroydred things , whose golden clockes Strike deeper to the faithfull shop-keepers heart Than into mine to pay him . — Had my Barbour Perfum'd my louzy thatch here , and poak'd out Me Tuskes more stiffe than are a Cats muschatoes , These pide-wing'd Butterflyes had knowne me then : Another flye-boat Save thee , Illustrious Don . Enter Don Roderigo . Sir is the King at leisure to speake Spanish With a poore Sculdier ? Ro. No . Exit . Bal. No , sirrah , you , no! You Don with th'oaker face , I wish to ha thee But on a Breach , stifling with smoke and fire , And for thy No , but whiffing Gunpowder Out of an Iron pipe , I woo'd but aske thee If thou wood'st on , and if thou didst cry No , Thou shudst read Canon-Law , I'de make thee roare , And weare cut-beaten-sattyn ; I woo'd pay thee Though thou payst not thy Mercer : meere Spanish Iennets , Enter Cockadillio . Signeor is the King at leisure ? Cock. To doe what ? Balt. To heare a Souldier speake . Cock. I am no eare-picker To sound his hearing that way . Bal. Are you of Court , Sir ? Cock. Yes , the Kings Barber . Bal. That's his eare-picker : your name , I pray . Cock. Don Cockadilio : If , Souldier , thou hast suits to begge at Court , I shall descend so low as to betray Thy paper to the hand Royall . Bal. I begge , you whorson muscod ! my petition Is written on my bosome in red wounds . Cock. I am no Barbar-Surgeon . Exit . Bal. You yellow hammer , why shaver : That such poore things as these , onely made up Of Taylors shreds and Merchants silken rags , And Pothecary drugs to lend their breath Sophisticated smells , when their ranke guts Stinke worse than cowards in the heat of battaile ; Such whalebond-doublet-rascals , that owe more To Landresses and Sempsters for laced Linnen Then all their race from their great grand-father To this their reigne , in clothes were ever worth : These excrements of Silke-wormes ! oh that such flyes Doe buzze about the beames of Majesty ! Like earwigs , tickling a Kings yeelding eare With that Court-Organ ( Flattery ) when a souldier Must not come neere the Court gates twenty score , But stand for want of clothes , ( tho he win Townes ) Amongst the Almesbasket-men ! his best reward Being scorn'd to be a fellow to the blacke gard : Why shud a Souldier ( being the worlds right arme ) Be cut thus by the left ? ( a Courtier ? )

Is the world all Ruffe and Feather , and nothing else ? shall I never see a Taylor give his coat with a difference from a Gentleman ?

Enter King , Alanzo , Carle , Cockadilio . Kin. My Baltazar ! Let us make haste to meet thee : how art thou alter'd ? Doe you not know him ? Alanz. Yes , Sir , the brave Souldier Employed against the Moores . Kin. Halfe turn'd Moore ! I'le honour thee , reach him a chaire , that Table , And now Aenaeas-like let thine owne Trumpet Sound forth thy battell with those slavish Moores . Bal.

My musicke is a Canon ; a pitcht field my stage ; Furies the Actors , blood and vengeance the scaene ; death the story ; a sword imbrued with blood , the pen that writes , and the Poet a terrible buskind Tragicall fellow , with a wreath about his head of burning match instead of Bayes .

Kin.

On to the Battaile .

Bal.

'Tis here without bloud-shed : This our maine Battalia , that the Van , this the Vaw , these the wings , here we fight , there they flye , here they insconce , and here our sconces lay 17 Moones on the cold earth .

Kin. This satisfies mine eye , but now mine eare Must have his musicke too ; describe the battaile . Bal.

The Battaile ? Am I come from doing to talking ? The hardest part for a Souldier to play is to prate well ; our Tongues are Fifes , Drums , Petronels , Muskets , Culverin and Canon , these are our Roarers ; the Clockes which wee goe by , are our hands ; thus wee reckon tenne , our swords strike eleven , and when steele targets of proofe clatter one against another , then 'tis noone , that's the height and the heat of the day of battaile .

Kin.

So .

Bal.

To that heat we came , our Drums beat , Pikes were shaken and shiver'd , swords and Targets clash'd and clatter'd , Muskets ratled , Canons roar'd , men dyed groaning . brave laced Ierkings and Feathers looked pale , totter'd rascals fought pell mell ; here fell a wing , there heads were lost like foot-balls ; legs and armes quarrell'd in the ayre , and yet lay quietly on the earth ; horses trampled upon heaps of Carkafles , Troopes of Carbines tumbled wounded from their horses ; we besiege Moores , and famine us , Mutinies bluster and are calme ; I vow'd not to doff mine Armour , tho my flesh were frozen too't and turn'd into Iron , nor to cut head nor beard till they yeelded ; my hayres and oath are of one length , for ( with Caesar ) thus write I mine owne story , Veni , vidi , vici .

Kin. A pitch'd field quickly fought : our hand is thine ; And 'cause thou shalt not murmure that thy bloud Was lavish'd forth for an ingratefull man , Demand what we can give thee , and 'tis thine . Bal. Onely your love . Kin. 'Tis thine , rise , Souldiers best accord When wounds of wrongs are heal'd up by the sword . Onaelia beats at the doore . Onae. Let me come in , I'le kill that treacherous King The murderer of mine honour , let me come in . Kin. What womans voyce is that ? Omnes . Medina's Neece . Kin. Bar out that fiend . Onae. I'le teare him with my nayles , Let me come in , let me come in , helpe , helpe me . Kin. Keepe her from following me ; a gard . Alanz. They are ready , Sir . Kin. Let a quicke summons call our Lords together ; This disease kils me . Bal. Sir I would be private with you . Kin. Forbeare us , but see the dores well guarded . Exeunt Bal.

Will you , Sir , promise to give mee freedome of speech ?

Kin.

Yes I will , take it , speake any thing , 'tis pardon'd .

Bal.

You are a whore master ; doe you send me to winne Townes for you abroad , and you lose a kingdome at home ?

Kin.

What kingdome ?

Bal.

The fayrest in the world , the kingdome of your fame , Your honour .

Kin.

Wherein ?

Bal.

I'le be plaine with you ; much mischiefe is done by the mouth of a Canon , but the fire begins at a little touch-hole ; you heard what Nightingale sung to you even now .

Kin.

Ha , ha , ha .

Bal.

Angels err'd but once and fell , but you , Sir , spit in heavens face every minute , and laugh at it : laugh still ; follow your courses ; doe ; let your vices runne like your Kennels of hounds yelping after you , till they plucke downe the fayrest head in the heard , everlasting blisse .

Kin.

Any more ?

Bal.

Take sinne as the English snufte Tobacco , and scornfully blew the smoake in the eyes of heaven , the vapour flyes up in clowds of bravery ; but when 'tis out , the coale is blacke ( your conscience , ) and the pipe stinkes ; a sea of Rose-water cannot sweeten your corrupted bosome .

Kin.

Nay , spit thy venome .

Bal.

'Tis Aqua Coelestis , no venome ; for when you shall claspe up those two books , never to be open'd againe , when by letting fall that Anchor , which can never more bee weighed up , your mortall Navigation ends : then there's no playing at spurne-point with thunderbolts . A Vintner then for unconscionable reckoning , or a Taylor for unmeasurable Items shall not answer in halfe that feare you must .

Kin.

No more .

Bal.

I will follow Truth at the heeles , tho her foot beat my gums in peeces .

Kin.

The Barber that drawes out a Lions tooth Curseth his Trade ; and so shalt thou .

Bal. I care not . Kin. Because you have beaten a few base-borne Moores , Me think'st thou to chastise ? what's past I pardon , Because I made the key to unlocke thy railing ; But if thou dar'st once more be so untun'd , I'le send thee to the Gallies , who are without there : How now ? Enter Lords drawne . Omnes . In danger , Sir ? Kin. Yes , yes , I am ; but 'tis no point of weapon Can rescue me ; goe presently and summon All our chiefe Grandoes , Cardinals , and Lords Of Spaine to meet in Counsell instantly : We call'd you forth to execute a businesse Of another straine , — but 'tis no matter now Thou dyest , when next thou furrowest up our brow . Bal. So : dye ! Exit . Enter Cardinall , Roderigo , Albia , Daenia , Valasco . Kin. I find my Scepter shaken by enchantments Charactred in this parchment , which to unloose , I'le practise onely counter-charmes of fire , And blow the spells of lightning into smoake : Fetch burning Tapers . Exeunt . Car. Give me Audience , Sir ; My apprehension opens me a way To a close fatall mischiefe , worse then this You strive to murder ; O this Act of yours Alone shall give your dangers life , which else Can never grow to height ; doe , Sir , but read A booke here claspt up , which too late you open'd , Now blotted by you with foule marginall notes . Kin. Art franticke ? Car. You are so , Sir . Kin. If I be , Then here's my first mad fit . Car. For Honours sake , For love you beare to conscience . — Kin. Reach the flames : Grandoes and Lords of Spaine be witnesse all What here I cancell ; read , doe you know this bond ? Omnes . Our hands are too't . Daen. 'Tis your confirmed Contract With my sad kinswoman : but wherefore , Sir , Now is your rage on fire , in such a presence To have it mourne in Ashes ? Kin. Marquesse Daenia , Wee'll lend That tongue , when this no more can speake . Car. Deare Sir ! Kin. I am deafe , Playd the full consort of the Spheares unto me Vpon their lowdest strings — so burne that witch Who would dry up the tree of all Spaines Glories , But that I purge her sorceries by fire : Troy lyes in Cinders ; let your Oracles Now laugh at me if I have beene deceiv'd By their ridiculous riddles : why ( good father ) ( Now you may freely chide ) why was your zeale Ready to burst in showres to quench our fury ? Car. Fury indeed , you give it proper name : What have you done ? clos'd up a festering wound Which rots the heart : like a bad Surgeon , Labouring to plucke out from your eye a moate , You thrust the eye cleane out . Kin. Th'art mad ex tempore : What eye ? which is that wound ? Car. That Scrowle , which now You make the blacke Indenture of your lust , Altho eat up in flames , is printed here , In me , in him , in these , in all that saw it , in all that ever did but heare 'twas yours : That scold of the whole world ( Fame ) will anon Raile with her thousand tongues at this poore shift Which gives your sinne a flame greater than that You lent the paper ; you to quench a wild fire , Cast oyle upon it . Kin. Oyle to blood shall turne , I'le lose a limbe before the heart shall mourne . Exeunt . Manent Daenia , Alba . Daen. Hee's mad with rage or joy . Alb. With both ; with rage To see his follies check'd , with fruitlesse joy Because he hopes his Contract is cut off Which Divine lustice more exemplifies . Enter Medina . Med. Where's the King ? Daen. Wrapt up in clouds of lightning ? Med. What has he done ? saw you the Contract torne As I did heare a minion sweare he threatned . Alb. He tore it not , but burnt it . Med. Openly ! Daen. And heaven with us to witnesse . Maed. Well , that fire Will prove a catching flame to burne his kingdome . Alb. Meet and consult . Med. No more , trust not the ayre With our projections , let us all revenge Wrongs done to our most hoble kinswoman ; Action is honours language , swords are tongues , Which both speake best , and best do right our wrongs . Exit . Enter Onaelia one way , Cornego another . Cor. Madam , theres a beare without to speak with you . One. A Beare . Cor. Its a Man all hairye , and thats as bad . One. Who ist ? Cor. Tis one Master Captaine Baltazar . One. I doe not know that Baltazar . Cor. He desires to see you : and if you love a water-spaniel before he be shorne , see him . Onae. Let him come in . Enter Baltazar . Cor. Hist ; a ducke , a ducke ; there she is , Sir . Bal. A Souldiers good wish blesse you Lady . Onae. Good wishes are most welcome ( Sir ) to me , So many bad ones blast me . Bal. Doe you not know me ? Onae. I scarce know my selfe . Bal.

I ha beene at Tennis , Madam , with the King : I gave him 15 and all his faults , which is much , and now I come to toffe a ball with you .

Onae.

I am bandyed too much up and downe already .

Cor.

Yes , shee has beene strucke under line , master Souldier .

Bal.

I conceit you , dare you trust your selfe alone with me ?

Onae. I have beene laden with such weights of wrong , That heavier cannot presse me : hence Cornego . Cor.

Hence Cornego ? stay Captaine : when man and woman are put together , some egge of villany is sure to be sate upon .

Exit Bal.

What would you say to him should kill this man That hath you so dishonoured ?

Onae. Oh I woo'd crowne him With thanks , praise , gold , and tender of my life . Bal.

Shall I bee that Germane Fencer , and beat all the knocking boyes before me ? shall I kill him ?

Onae.

There's musick in the tongue that dares but speak it .

Bal.

That Fiddle then is in me , this arme can doo't , by ponyard , poyson , or pistoll : but shall I doo't indeed ?

Onae. One step to humane blisse is sweet revenge . Bal. Stay ; what made you love him ? Onae. His most goodly shape , Marryed to royall vertues of his mind . Bal.

Yet now you would divorce all that goodnesse ; and why ? For a little lechery of revenge ? it's a lye : the Burre that stickes in your throat is a throane ; let him out of his messe of kingdomes ; cut out but one , and lay Sicilia , Arragon , Naples , or any else upon your trencher , and you'll prayse Bastard for the sweetest wine in the world , and call for another quart of it : 'Tis not because the man has left you , but because you are not the woman you would be , that mads you : A shee-cuckold is an untameable monster .

Onae. Monster of men thou art ; thou bloudy villaine , Traytor to him who never injur'd thee ; Dost thou professe Armes ? and art bound in honour To stand up like a brazen wall to guard Thy King and Country , and wood'st thou ruine both ? Bal. You spurre me on too't . Onæ. True ; Worse am I then the horrid'st fiend in hell To murder him whom once I lou'd too well : For tho I could runne mad , and teare my haire , And kill that godlesse man that turn'd me vile , Though I am cheated by a perjurous Prince Who has done wickednesse , at which even heauen Shakes when the Sunne beholds it , O yet I'de rather Ten thousand poyson'd ponyards stab'd my brest Than one should touch his : bloudy slave ! I'le play My selfe the Hangman , and will Butcher thee If thou but prick'st his finger . Bal.

Saist thou me so ! give me thy goll , thou art a noble girle ; I did play the Devils part , and roare in a feigned voyce , but I am the honestest Devill that ever spet fire : I would not drinke that infernall draught of a Kings blood , to goe reeling to damnation , for the weight of the world in Diamonds .

Onae. Art thou not counterfeit ? Bal. Now by my skarres I am not . Onae. I'le call thee honest Souldier then , and woo thee To be an often Visitant . Bal. Your servant ; Yet must I be a stone upon a hill , For tho I doe no good , I'le not lye still . Exeunt
Actus Tertius .
Scaena Prima . Enter Malateste and the Queene . Mal. WHen first you came from Florence , wud the world Had with an universal dire ecclipse Bin ouer whelm'd , no more to gaze on day , That you to Spaine had never found the way , Here to be lost for ever . Quee. We from one Climate Drew inspiration : as thou then hast eyes To read my wrongs , so be thy head an Engine To raise up ponderous mischiefe to the height , And then thy hands the Executioners : A true Italian spirit is a ball Of Wild-fire , hurting most when it seemes spent ; Great ships on small rockes beating oft , are rent ; And so let Spaine by us : but ( Malateste ) Why from the Presence did you single me Into this Gallery ? Mal. To shew you , Madam , The picture of your selfe , but so defac'd , And mangled by proud Spanyards , it woo'd whet A sword to arme the poorest Florentine In your just wrongs . Quee. As how ? let's see that picture . Mal. Here 'tis then : Time is not scarce foure dayes old . Since I , and certaine Dons ( sharp-witted fellowes , And of good ranke ) here with two Iesuits ( Grave profound Schollers ) in deepe argument Of various propositions ; at the last , Question was mov'd touching your marriage , And the Kings precontract . Quee. So ; and what followed ? Mal. Whether it were a question mov'd by chance , Or spitefully of purpose ( I being there , And your owne Country-man ) I cannot tell , But when much tossing Had bandyed both the King and you , as pleas'd Those that tooke up the Rackets ; in conclusion , The Father Iesuits ( to whose subtile Musicke Every care there was tyed ) stood with their lives In stiffe defence of this opinion — Oh pardon me if I must speake their language . Quee. Say on . Mal. That the most Catholike King in marrying you , Keepes you but as his whore . Quee. Are we their Theames ? Mal. And that Medina's Neece ( Onaelia ) Is his true wife : her bastard sonne they said ( The King being dead ) should claim and weare the Crown ; And whatsoever children you shall beare , To be but bastards in the highest degree , As being begotten in Adultery . Quee. We will not grieve at this , but with hot vengeance Beat downe this armed mischiefe : Malateste ! What whirlewinds can we raise to blow this storme Backe in their faces who thus shoot at me ? Mal. If I were fit to be your Counsellor , Thus would I speake : Feigne that you are with childe ; The mother of the Maids , and some worne Ladies , Who oft have guilty beene to court great be , May , tho it be not so , get you with childe With swearing that 'tis true . Quee. Say 'tis beleev'd , Or that it so doth prove ? Mal. The joy thereof , Together with these earth-quakes , which will shake All Spaine , if they their Prince doe dis-inherit , So borne , of such a Queene ; being onely daughter To such a brave spirit as the Duke of Florence , All this buzz'd into the King , he cannot chuse But charge that all the Bels in Spaine eccho up This Ioy to heaven ; that Bone-fires change the night To a high Noone , with beames of sparkling flames ; And that in Churches , Organs ( charm'd with prayers ) Speake lowd for your most safe delivery . Quee. What fruits grow out of these ? Mal. These ; you must sticke ( As here and there spring weeds in banks of flowers ) Spies amongst the people , who shall lay their eares To every mouth , and steale to you their whisperings . Quee. So . Mal. 'Tis a plummet to sound Spanish hearts How deeply they are yours : besides , a ghesse Is hereby made of any faction That shall combine against you ; which the King seeing , If then he will not rouze him like a Dragon To guard his golden fleece , and rid his Harlot And her base bastard hence , either by death , Or in some traps of state , insnare them both , Let his owne ruines crush him . Quee. This goes to tryall : Be thou my Magicke booke , which reading o're Their counterspels wee'll breake ; or if the King Will not by strong hand fix me in his Throne , But that I must be held Spaines blazing Starre , Be it an ominous charme to call up warre . Exeunt . Enter Cornego , Onaelia . Corn.

Here's a parcell of mans flesh has beene hanging up and downe all this morning to speake with you .

Onae. Is't not some executioner ? Cor. I see nothing about him to hang in but's garters . Onae. Sent from the King to warne me of my death : I prethe bid him welcome . Cor. He sayes he is a Poet . Onae. Then bid him better welcome : Belike he's come to write my Epitaph , Some scurvy thing I warrant ; welcome Sir . Enter Poet . Poet . Madam , my love presents this booke unto you . Onae. To me ? I am not worthy of a line , Vnlesse at that line hang some hooke to choake me : To the Most honour'd Lady — Onaelia . Reads Fellow thou lyest , I'me most dishonoured : Thou shouldst have writ to the most wronged Lady . The Title of this booke is not to me , I teare it therefore as mine Honour's torne . Cor.

Your Verses are lam'd in some of their sect , Master Poet .

Onae. What does it treat of ? Poet . Of the sollemne Triumphs Set forth at Coronation of the Queene . Onae. Hissing ( the Poets whirle-wind ) blast thy lines . Com'st thou to mocke my Tortures with her Triumphs ? Poet . 'Las Madam ! Onae. When her funerals are past , Crowne thou a Dedication to my joyes , And thou shalt sweare each line a golden verse : Cornego , burne this Idoll . Cor. Your booke shall come to light , Sir . Exit . Onae. I have read legends of disastrous Dames ; Will none set pen to paper for poore me ? Canst write a bitter Satyre ? brainlesse people Doe call'em Libels : dar'st thou write a Libell ? Poet . I dare mix gall and poyson with my Inke . Onae. Doe it then for me . Poet . And every line must be A whip to draw blood . Onae. Better . Poet . And to dare The stab from him it touches : he that writes Such Libels ( as you call'em ) must lanch wide The fores of mens corruptions , and even search To'th quicke for dead flesh , or for rotten cores : A Poets Inke can better cure some sores Then Surgeons Balsum . Onae. Vndertake that Cure , And crowne thy verse with Bayes . Poet . Madam I le doo't : But I must haue the parties Character . Onae. The King . Poet . I doe not love to plucke the quils With which I make pens , out of a Lions claw : The King ! shoo'd I be bitter 'gainst the King , I shall have scurvy ballads made of me , Sung to the Hanging Tune . I dare not , Madam . Onae. This basenesse followes your profession : You are like common Beadles , apt to lash Almost to death poore wretches not worth striking , But fawne with slavish flattery on damn'd vices , So great men act them : you clap hands at those , Where the true Poet indeed doth scorne to guild A gawdy Tombe with glory of his Verse , Which coffins stinking Carrion : no , his lines Are free as his Invention ; no base feare Can shake his penne to Temporize even with Kings , The blacker are their crimes , he lowder sings . Goe , goe , thou canst not write : 'tis but my calling The Muses helpe , that I may be inspir'd : Cannot a woman be a Poet , Sir ? Poet . Yes , Madam , best of all ; for Poesie Is but a feigning , feigning is to lye , And women practise lying more than men . Onae. Nay , but if I shoo'd write , I woo'd tell truth : How might I reach a lofty straine ? Poet . Thus , Madam : Bookes , Musicke , Wine , brave Company , and good Cheere , Make Poets to soare high , and sing most cleare . Onae. Are they borne Poets ? Poet . Yes . Onae. Dye they ? Poet . Oh never dye . Onae. My misery is then a Poet sure , For Time has given it an Eternity : What sorts of Poets are there ? Poet . Two sorts , Lady : The great Poets , and the small Poets . Onae. Great and small ! Which doe you call the great ? the fat ones ? Poet . No : but such as have great heads , which emptied forth , Fill all the world with wonder at their lines ; Fellowes which swell bigge with the wind of praise : The small ones are but shrimpes of Poesie . Onae. Which in the kingdome now is the best Poet ? Poet . Emulation . Onae. Which the next ? Poet . Necessity . Onae. And which the worst ? Poet . Selfe-love . Onae. Say I turne Poet , what should I get ? Poet . Opinion . Onae. 'Las I have got too much of that already ; Opinion is my Evidence , Iudge , and Iury ; Mine owne guilt , and opinion , now condemne me ; I'le therefore be no Poet ; no , nor make Ten Muses of your nine ; I sweare for this ; Verses , tho freely borne , like slaves are sold , I Crowne thy lines with Bayes , thy love with gold : So fare thou well . Poet . Our pen shall honour you . Exit . Enter Cornego . Cor.

The Poets booke , Madam , has got the Inflammation of the Livor , it dyed of a burning Feaver .

Onae. What shall I doe , Cornego ? for this Poet Has fill'd me with a fury : I could write Strange Satyrs now against Adulterers , And Marriage-breakers . Cor.

I beleeve you , Madam ; — but here comes your Vncle .

Enter Medina , Alanzo , Carlo , Alba , Sebastian , Denia . Med. Where's our Neece ? Turne your braines round , and recollect your spirits , And see your Noble friends and kinsmen ready To pay revenge his due . Onae. That word Revenge Startles my sleepy Soule , now throughly wakend By the fresh Object of my haplesse childe , Whose wrongs reach beyond mine . Seb. How doth my sweet mother ? One. How doth my prettiest boy ? Alanz. Wrongs , like great whirlewinds , Shake highest Battlements ; few for heaven woo'd care . Shoo'd they be ever happy : they are halfe gods Who both in good dayes , and good fortune share . Onae. I have no part in either . Carl. You shall in both , Can Swords but cut the way . Onae. I care not much , so you but gently strike him , And that my Child escape the lightning . Med. For that our Nerves are knit ; is there not here A promising face of manly princely vertues , And shall so sweet a plant be rooted out By him that ought to fix it fast i'th ground ? Sebastian , what will you doe to him that hurts your mother ? Seb. The King my father shall kill him I trow . Dæn. But , sweet Coozen , the King loves not your mother . Seb. Ile make him love her when I am a King . Med. La you , there's in him a Kings heart already : As therefore we before together vow'd , Lay all your warlike hands upon my Sword , And sweare . Seb. Will you sweare to kill me , Vncle ? Med. Oh not for twenty worlds . Seb. Nay then draw and spare not , for I love fighting . Med. Stand in the midst ( sweet Cooz ) we are your guard ; These Hammers shall for thee beat out a Crowne If all hit right ; sweare therefore ( Noble friends ) By your high bloods , by true Nobility , By what you owe Religion , owe to your Country , Owe to the raising your posterity , By love you beare to vertue , and to Armes , ( The shield of Innocence ) sweare not to sheath Your Swords , when once drawne forth . Onae. Oh not to kill him For twenty thousand worlds . Med. ( Will you be quiet ? ) Your Swords when once drawne forth , till they ha forc'd You godlesse , perjurous , perfidious man , — Onae. Pray raile not at him so . Med. Art mad ? y'are idle : — till they ha forc'd him To cancell his late lawlesse bond he seal'd At the high Altar to his Florentine Strumpet , And in his bed lay this his troth-plight wife . Onae. I , I , that's well ; pray sweare . Omnes . To this we sweare . Seb. Vncle , I sweare too . Med. Our forces let's unite , be bold and secret , And Lion-like with open eyes let's sleepe , Streames smooth and slowly running , are most deepe . Exeunt . Enter King , Queene , Malateste , Valaseo , Lopez . Kin. The Presence doore be guarded ; let none enter On forfeit of your lives , without our knowledge : Oh you are false Physitians all unto me , You bring me poyson , but no Antidotes . Quee. Your selfe that poyson brewes . Kin. Prethe no more . Quee. I will , I must speake more . Kin. Thunder aloud . Quee. My child , yet newly quickned in my wombe , Is blasted with the fires of Bastardy . Kin. Who ! who dares once but thinke so in his dreame ? Mal. Medina's faction preach'd it openly . Kin. Be curst he and his Faction : oh how I labour For these preventions ! but so crosse is Fate , My ills are ne're hid from me , but their Cures : What's to be done ? Quee. That which being left undone , Your life lyes at the stake : let 'em be breathlesse Both brat and mother . Kin. Ha! Mal. She playes true Musicke , Sir : The mischiefes you are drench'd in are so full , You need not feare to adde to 'em ; since now No way is left to guard thy rest secure , But by a meanes like this . Lop. All Spaine rings forth Medina's ruine , and his Confederates . Rod. All his All yes and friends rush into troopes Like raging Torrents . Val. And lowd Trumpet forth Your perjuries : seducing the wild people , And with rebellious faces threatning all . Kin. I shall be massacred in this their spleene , E're I have time to guard my selfe ; I feele The fire already falling : where's our guard ? Mal Planted at Garden gate , with a strict charge That none shall enter but by your command . Kin. Let 'em be doubled : I am full of thoughts , A thousand wheeles tosse my incertaine feares , There is a storme in my hot boyling braines , Which rises without wind , a horrid one : What clamor's that ? Quee. Some treason : guard the King . Enter Baltazar drawne ; one of the Guard fals . Bal. Not in ? Mal. One of your guard's slaine , keepe off the murderer . Bal. I am none , Sir . Val. There's a man drop'd downe by thee . Kin. Thou desperate follow , thus presse in upon us ! Is murder all the story we shall read ? What King can stand , when thus his Subjects bleed ? What hast thou done ? Bal. No hurt . Kin. Plaid even the Wolfe , And from a fold committed to my charge , Stolne and devour'd one of the flocke . Bal.

Y'ave sheepe enow for all that , Sir ; I have kill'd none tho ; or if I have , mine owne blood shed in your quarrels , may begge my pardon ; my businesse was in haste to you .

Kin. I woo'd not have thy sinne scoar'd on my head For all the Indian Treasury : I prethe tell me , Suppose thou hadst our pardon , O can that cure Thy wounded conscience , can there my pardon helpe thee Yet having deserv'd well both of Spaine and us , We will not pay thy worth with losse of life , But banish thee for ever . Bal. For a Groomes death ? Kin. No more : we banish thee our Court and kingdome : A King that fosters men so dipt in blood , May be call'd mercifull , but never good : Be gone upon thy life . Bal. Well : farewell . Exit . Val. The fellow is not dead but wounded , Sir . Quee. After him , Malateste ; in our lodging Stay that rough fellow , hee's the man shall doo't : Haste , or my hopes are lost . Exit Mal. Why are you sad , Sir ? Kin. For thee , Paulina , swell my troubled thoughts , Like billowes beaten by too warring winds . Quee. Be you but rul'd by me , I'le make a calme Smooth as the brest of heaven . Kin. Instruct me how . Quee. You ( as your fortunes tye you ) are inclin'd To have the blow given . Kin. Where's the Instrument ? Quee. 'Tis found in Baltazar . Kin. Hee's banish'd . Quee. True , But staid by me for this . Kin. His spirit is hot And rugged , but so honest , that his soule Will ne're turne devill to doe it . Quee. Put it to tryall : Retire a little , hither I'le send for him , Offer repeale and favours if he doe it ; But if deny , you have no finger in't , And then his doome of banishment stands good . Kin. Be happy in thy workings ; I obey . Exit . Quee. Stay Lopez . Lop. Madam . Quee. Step to our Lodging ( Lopez ) And instantly bid Malateste bring The banish'd Baltazar to us . Lop. I shall . Exit . Quee.

Thrive my blacke plots , the mischiefes I have set Must not so dye ; Ills must new Ills beget .

Enter Malateste and Baltazar . Bal.

Now ! what hot poyson'd Custard must I put my Spoone into now ?

Quee.

None , for mine honour now is thy protection .

Mal.

Which , Noble Souldier , she will pawne for thee , But never forfeit .

Bal. 'Tis a faire gage , keepe it . Quee. Oh Baltazar ! I am thy friend , and mark'd thee ; When the King sentenc'd thee to banishment Fire sparkled from thine eyes of rage and griefe ; Rage to be doom'd so for a Groome so base , And griefe to lose thy County : thou hast kill'd none , The Milke-sop is but wounded , thou art not banish'd . Bal.

If I were , I lose nothing , I can make any Country mine : I have a private Coat for Italian Stelletto's , I can be treacherous with the Wallowne , drunke with the Dutch , a Chimney-sweeper with the Irish , a Gentleman with the Welsh , and turne arrant theefe with the English , what then is my Country to me ?

Quee. The King ( who rap'd with fury ) banish'd thee , Shall give thee favours , yeeld but to destroy What him distempers . Bal. So : And what's the dish I must dresse ? Quee. Onely the cutting off a paire of lives . Bal. I love no Red-wine healths . Mal. The King commands it , you are but Executioner . Bal.

The Hang-man ? An office that will hold so long as hempe lasts , why doe not you begge the office , Sir ?

Quee. Thy victories in field did never crowne thee As this one Act shall . Bal. Prove but that , 'tis done . Quee. Follow him close , hee's yeelding . Mal. Thou shalt be call'd thy Countries Patriot , For quenching out a fire now newly kindling In factious bosomes , and shalt thereby save More Noble Spanyards lives , than thou slew'st Moores . Quee. Art thou not yet converted ? Bal. No point . Quee. Read me then : Medina's Neece ( by a Contract from the King ) Layes clayme to all that's mine , my Crowne , my bed ; A sonne she has by him must fill the Throne , If her great faction can but worke that wonder : Now heare me — Bal. I doe with gaping eares . Quee. I swell with hopefull issue to the King . Bal. A brave Don call you mother . Mal. Of this danger The feare afflicts the King . Bal. Cannot much blame him . Quee. If therefore by the riddance of this Dame — Bal. Riddance ? oh ! the meaning on't is murder . Mal. Stab her , or so , that's all . Quee. That Spaine be free from frights , the King from feares , And I , now held his Infamy , be called Queene , The Treasure of the kingdome shall lye open To pay thy Noble darings . Bal.

Come , I le doo't , provided I heare Iove call too tho he rores ; I must have the Kings hand to this warrant , else I dare not serve it upon my Conscience

Quee. Be firme then ; behold the King is come . Enter King . Bal. Acquaint him . Quee. I found the mettall hard , but with oft beating Hees now so softned , he shall take impression From any seale you give him . Kin. Baltazar , come hither , listen ; whatsoe're our Queene Has importun'd thee to touching Onaelia , Neece to the Constable , and her young sonne , My voyce shall second it , and signe her promise . Bal. Their riddance ? Kin. That . Bal. What way ? by poyson ? Kin. So . Bal. Starving ? or strangling , stabbing , smothering ? Quee. Good . Kin. Any way so 'tis done . Bal. But I will have , Sir , This under your owne hand , that you desire it , You plot it , set me on too't . Kin. Penne , Inke , and paper . Bal. And then as large a pardon as law and wit Can engrosse for me . Kin. Thou shalt ha my pardon . Bal. A word more , Sir , pray will you tell me one thing ? Kin ▪ Yes any thing , deare Baltazar . Bal. Suppose I have your strongest pardon , can that cure

My wounded Conscience ? can there your pardon help me ? you not onely knocke the Ewe a'th head , but cut the Innocent Lambes throat too , yet you are no Butcher .

Quee. Is this thy promis'd yeelding to an Act So wholesome for thy Country ? Kin. Chide him not . Bal. I woo'd not have this sinne scor'd on my head For all the Indaean Treasury . Kin. That song no more : Doe this and I will make thee a great man . Bal.

Is there no farther tricke in't , but my blow , your purse , and my pardon ?

Mal. No nets upon my life to entrap thee . Bal. Then trust me : these knuckles worke it . Kin. Farewell , be confident and sudden . Bal. Yes : Subjects may stumble , when Kings walke astray ; Thine Acts shall be a new Apocrypha . Exeunt .
Actus Quartus .
Scaena Prima . Enter Medina , Alba , and Daenia , met by Baltazar with a Ponyard and a Pistoll . Bal. YOu meet a Hydra ; see , if one head failes Another with a sulphurous beake stands yawning Med. What hath rais'd up this Devill ? Bal. A great mans vices , that can raise all hell . What woo'd you call that man , who under-saile , In a most goodly ship , wherein hee ventures His life , fortunes , and honours , yet in a fury Should hew the Mast downe , cast Sayles over-boord , Fire all the Tacklings , and to crowne this madnesse , Shoo'd blow up all the Deckes , burne th'oaken ribbes , And in that Combat 'twixt two Elements Leape desperately , and drowne himselfe i'th Seas , What were so brave a fellow ? Omnes . A brave blacke villaine . Bal. That's I ; all that brave blacke villaine dwels in me , If I be that blacke villaine ; but I am not , A Nobler Character prints out my brow , Which you may thus read , I was banish'd Spaine For emptying a Court-Hogshead , but repeal'd , So I woo'd ( e're my reeking Iron was cold ) Promise to give it a deepe crimson dye In — none heare , — stay — no , none heare . Med. Whom then ? Bal. Basely to stab a woman , your wrong'd Neece , And her most innocent sonne Sebastian . Alb. The Boare now foames with whetting . Dan. What has blunted Thy weapons point at these ? Bal. My honesty ; A signe at which few dwell : ( pure honesty ! ) I am a vassaile to Medina's house , He taught me first the A , B , C , of warre : Ere I was Truncheon-high , I had the stile Of beardlesse Captaine , writing then but boy , And shall I now turne slave to him that fed me With Cannon-bullets ' and taught me , Estridge-like , To digest Iron and Steele ! no : yet I yeelded With willow-bendings to commanding breaths . Med. Of whom ? Bal. Of King and Queene : with supple Hams , And an ill-boading looke , I vow'd to doo't : Yet , lest some choake-peare of State-policy Shoo'd stop my throat , and spoyle my drinking-pipe , See ( like his cloake ) I hung at the Kings elbow , Till I had got his hand to signe my life . Daen. Shall we see this and sleepe ? Alb. No , whilst these wake . Med. 'Tis the Kings hand . Bal. Thinke you me a quoyner ? Med. No , no , thou art thy selfe still , Noble Baltazar , I ever knew thee honest , and the marke Stands still upon thy fore-head . Bal. Else flea the skin off . Med. I ever knew thee valiant , and to scorne All acts of basenesse : I have seene this man Write in the field such stories with his sword , That cur best Chiefetaines swore there was in him As 'twere a new Philosophy of fighting , His deeds were so Punctillious : In one battell , When death so nearely mist my ribs , he strucke Three horses stone-dead under me : This man , Three times that day ( even through the jawes of danger ) Redeem'd me up , and ( I shall print it ever ) Stood o're my body with Collossus thighes , Whilst all the Thunder-bolts which warre could throw , Fell on his head : And Baltazar , thou canst not Be now but honest still , and valiant still , Not to kill boyes and women . Bal. My byter here , cats no such meat . Med. Goe fetch the mark'd-out Lambe for slaughter hither , Good fellow-souldier ayd him , — and stay — marke , Give this false fire to the beleeving King , That the child's sent to heaven , but that the mother Stands rock'd so strong with friends , ten thousand billowes Cannot once shake her . Bal. This I'le doe . Med. Away : Yet one word more ; your Counsell , Noble friends ; Harke Baltazar , because nor eyes nor tongues , Shall by lowd Larums , that the poore boy liues , Question thy false report , the child shall closely Mantled in darknesse , forthwith be conveyed To the Monastery of Saint Paul . Omnes . Good . Med. Dispatch then , be quicke . Bal. As Lightning . Exit . Alb. This fellow is some Angell drop'd from heauen To preserve Innocence . Med. He is a wheele Of swift and turbulent motion ; I have trusted him , Yet will not hang on him too many plummets , Lest with a headlong Cyre he ruines all : In these State-consternations , when a kingdome Stands tottering at the Center , out of suspition Safety growes often ; let us suspect this fellow , And that albeit he shew us the Kings hand , It may be but a Tricke . Daen. Your Lordship hits A poyson'd nayle i'th head : this waxen fellow ( By the Kings hand so bribing him with gold ) is set on skrews , Perhaps is made his Creature , To turne round every way . Med. Out of that feare Will I beget truth : for my selfe in person Will sound the Kings brest . Carl. How your selfe in person ? Alb. That's halfe the prize he gapes for . Med. I'le venture it , And come off well I warrant you , and rip up His very entrailes , cut in two his heart , And search each corner in't , yet shall not he Know who it is cuts up th' Anatomy . Daen. 'Tis an exploit worth wonder . Carl. Put the worst , Say some Infernall voyce shoo'd rore from hell , The Infant's cloystering up . Alb. 'Tis not our danger , Nor the imprison'd Prince's , for what Theefe Dares by base sacrilege rob the Church of him ? Carl. At worst none can be lost but this slight fellow ? Med. All build on this as on a stable Cube ; If we our footing keepe , we fetch him forth , And Crowne him King ; if up we flye i'th ayre , We for his soules health a broad way prepare . Daen. They come . Enter Baltazar and Sebastian . Med. Thou knowst where To bestow him , Baltazar . Bal. Come Moble Boy . Alb. Hide him from being discovered . Bal. Discover'd ? woo'd there stood a troope of Moores Thrusting the pawes of hungry Lions forth , To seize this prey , and this but in my hand , I should doe something . Seb. Must I goe with this blacke fellow , Vncle ? Med. Yes , pretty Coz , hence with him , Baltazar . Bal.

Sweet child , within few minutes I'le change thy fate And take thee hence , but set thee at heavens gate .

Exeunt Med. Some keepe aloofe and watch this Souldier . Carl. I'le doo't . Dæn. What's to be done now ? Med. First to plant strong guard About the mother , then into some snare To hunt this spotted Panther , and there kill him . Dæn. What snares have we can hold him ? Med. Be that care mine ; Dangers ( like Starres ) in darke attempts best shine . Exeunt . Enter Cornego , Baltazar . Cor.

The Lady Onaelia dresseth the stead of her commendations in the most Courtly Attire that words can be cloth'd with , from her selfe to you , by me .

Bal.

So Sir ; and what disease troubles her now ?

Cor.

The Kings Evill ; and here she hath sent something to you wrap'd up in a white sheet , you need not feare to open it , tis no coarse .

Bal. What's here ? a letter minc'd into five morsels ? What was she doing when thou camst from her ? Cor. At her pricke-song . Bal.

Some thinks , for here's nothing but sol-Re-me-fa-mi . What Crochet fils her head now , canst tell ?

Cor.

No Crochets , 'tis onely the Cliffe has made her mad .

Bal.

What Instrument playd she upon ?

Cor.

A wind instrument , she did nothing but sigh .

Bal.

Sol , Re , me , Fa , Mi .

Cor.

My wit has alwayes had a singing head , I have found out her Note Captaine .

Bal.

The tune ? come .

Cor.

Sol , my foule ; re , is all rent and torne like a raggamuffin ; me , mend it good Captaine ; fa , fa , whats fa Captaine ?

Bal.

Fa , why farewell and be hang'd .

Cor.

Mr , Captaine , with all my heart ; haue I tickled my Ladies Fiddle well ?

Bal.

Oh but your sticke wants Rozen to make the strings sound clearely : no , this double Virginall , being cunningly touch'd , another manner of Iacke leaps up then is now in mine eye : Sol , Re , me , fa , mi , I have it now , Solus Rex me facit miseram : Alas poore Lady , tell her no Pothecary in Spaine has any of that Assafetida she writes for .

Cor.

Assafetida ? whats that ?

Bal.

A thing to be taken in a glister-pipe .

Cor.

Why what ayles my Lady ?

Bal.

What ayles she ? why when she cryes out , Solus Rex me facit miseram , she sayes in the Hypocronicall language , that she is so miserably tormented with the wind-Chollicke that it rackes her very soule .

Cor.

I said somewhat cut her soule in peeces .

Bal.

But goe to her , and say the Oven is heating .

Cor.

And what shall be bak'd in t ?

Bal.

Carpe pyes : and besides , tell her the hole in her Coat shall be mended : and tell her if the Dyall of good dayes goe true , why then bounce Buckrum .

Cor.

The Divell lyes sicke of the Mulligrubs .

Bal.

Or the Cony is dub'd , and three sheepskins

Cor.

With the wrong side outward

Bal.

Shall make the Fox a Night-cap .

Cor.

So the Goose talkes French to the Buzzard .

Bal.

But , Sir , if evill dayes justle our prognostication to the wall , then say there's a fire in a Whore-masters Codpeece .

Cor.

And a poyson'd Bagge-pudding in Tom Thumbes belly .

Bal.

The first cut be thine : farewell .

Cor.

Is this all ?

Bal.

Woo't not trust an Almanacke ?

Cor.

Nor a Coranta neither , tho it were seal'd with Butter , and yet I know where they both lye passing well .

Enter Lopez . Lop.

The King sends round about the Court to seek you .

Bal.

Away Otterhound .

Cor.

Dancing Beare , I'me gone .

Exit . Enter King attended . Exeunt omnes . Kin. A private roome , Is't done ? hast drawne thy two-edg'd sword out yet ? Bal.

No , I was striking at the two Iron Barres that hinder your passage , and see Sir .

Drawes . Kin.

What meanst thou ?

Bal.

The edge abated , feele .

Kin.

No , no , I see it .

Bal.

As blunt as Ignorance .

Kin.

How ? put up — So — how ?

Bal.

I saw by chance hanging in Cardinall Alvarez Gallery a picture of hell .

Kin.

So , what of that ?

Bal.

There lay upon burnt straw ten thousand brave fellowes all starke naked , some leaning upon Crownes , some on Miters , some on bags of gold : Glory in another Corner lay like a feather beaten in the raine ; Beauty was turn'd into a watching Candle , that went out stinking : Ambition went upon a huge high paire of stilts , but horribly rotten ; some in another nooke were killing Kings , and some having their elbowes shov'd forward by Kings to murther others ; I was ( me thought ) halfe in hell my selfe whilst I stood to view this peece .

Kin.

Was this all ?

Bal.

Was't not enough to see that a man is more healthfull that eats dirty puddings , than he that feeds on a corrupted Conscience .

Kin. Conscience ! what's that ? a Conjuring booke ne're open'd Without the readers danger : 'tis indeed A scare-crow set i'th world to fright weake fooles : Hast thou seene fields pav'd o're with carkasses , Now to be tender-footed , not to tread On a boyes mangled quarters , and a womans ! Bal.

Nay , Sir , I have search'd the records of the Low-Countries , and finde that by your pardon I need not care a pinne for Goblins , and therefore I will doo't Sir . I did but recoyle because I was double charg'd .

Kin.

No more , here comes a Satyre with sharpe hornes .

Enter Cardinall , and Medina like a French Doctor . Car.

Sir here's a Frenchman charg'd with some strange Which to your close eare onely hee'll deliver , ( businesse Or else to none .

Kin.

A Frenchman ?

Med.

We Mounsire .

Kin.

Cannot he speake the Spanish ?

Med.

Si Signior , vr Poco : — Monsir Acontez in de Corner , me come for offer to your Bon grace mi trezhumbla service , by gar no Iohn fidleco shall put into your neare braver Melody dan dis vn petite pipe shall play upon to your great bon Grace .

Kin.

What is the tune you'll strike up , touch the string .

Med.

Dis ; me ha run up and downe mane Countrie , and learne many fine ting , and mush knavery , now more and all dis , me know you ha jumbla de fine vench and fill her belly wid a Garsoone , her name is le Madame —

Kin.

Onalia .

Med.

She by gar : Now Monsire , dis Madam send for me to helpe her Malady , being very naught of her corpes ( her body ) me know you no point love a dis vensh ; but royall Monsire donne Moye ten towsand French Croownes she shall kicke up her taile by gar , and beshide lye dead as dog in de shannell .

Kin.

Speake low .

Med.

As de bagge-pipe when de winde is puff , Gar beigh .

Kin.

Thou nam'st ten thousand Crownes , I'le treble them Rid me but of this leprosie : thy name ?

Med. Monsire Doctor Deuile . Kin. Shall I a second wheele adde to this mischiefe To set it faster going ? If one breake , Th'other may keepe his motion . Med. Eslelent fort boone . Kin. Baltazar , To give thy Sword an edge againe , this French-man Shall whet them on , that if thy pistoll faile , Or ponyard , this can send the poyson home . Bal. Brother Cain wee'll shake hands . Med.

In de bowle of de bloody busher : tis very fine wholesome .

Kin. And more to arme your resolution , I'le tune this Churchman so , that he shall chime In sounds harmonious , Merit to that man Whose hand has but a finger in that act . Bal. That musicke were worth hearing . Kin. Holy Father , You must give pardon to me in unlocking A Cave stuft full with Serpents , which my State Threaten to poyson , and it lyes in you To breake their bed with thunder of your voyce . Car. How Princely sonne ? Kin. Suppose an universall Hot Pestilence beat her mortiferous wings O re all my kingdome , am not I bound in soule To empty all our Achademes of Doctors , And Aesculapian spirits to charme this plague ? Car. You are . Kin. Or had the Canon made a breach Into our rich Escuriall , downe to beat it About our eares , shoo'd I to stop this breach Spare even our richest Ornaments , nay , our Crowne , Could it keepe bullets off . Car. No Sir , you should not . Kin. This Linstocke gives you fire : shall then that strumpet And bastard breathe quicke vengeance in my face ; Making my kingdome reele , my subjects stagger In their obedience , and yet live ? Car. How ? live ! Shed not their bloods to gaine a kingdome greater Then ten times this . Med. Pishe , not mattera how Red-cap and his wit run . Kin. As I am Catholike King , I'le have their hearts , Panting in these two hands . Car. Dare you turne Hang-man ? Is this Religion Catholike to kill What even bruit beasts abhorre to doe , ( your owne ! ) To cut in sunder wedlockes sacred knot Tyed by heavens fingers ! to make Spaine a Bonfire , To quench which must a second Deluge raine In showres of blood , no water ; If you doe this , There is an Arme Armipotent that can fling you Into a base grave , and your Pallaces With Lightning strike , and of their Ruines make A Tombe for you ( unpitied , and abhorr'd ) Beare witnesse all you Lamps Coelestiall I wash my hands of this . kneeling . Kin. Rise my good Angell , Whose holy tunes beat from me that evill spirit Which jogs mine Elbow , hence thou dog of hell . Med. Baw wawghe . Kin. Barke out no more thou Mastiffe , get you all gone , And let my soule sleepe : there's gold , peace , see it done . Exit . Manent Medina , Baltazar , Cardinall . Bal.

Sirra , you Salfa-Perilla Rascall , Toads-guts , you whorson pockey French Spawne of a bursten-bellyed Spyder , doe you heare , Monsire .

Med.

Why doe you barke and snap at my Narcissus , as if I were de Frenshe doag ?

Bal. You Curre of Cerberus litter strikes him .

You'll poyson the honest Lady ? doe but once toot into her Chamber-pot , and I'le make thee looke worse then a witch does upon a close-stoole .

Car. You shall not dare to touch him , stood he here Single before thee . Bal. I'le cut the Rat into Anchovies . Car. I'le make thee kisse his hand , imbrace him , love him And call him — Medina discovers . Bal.

The perfection of all Spanyards . Mars in little , the best booke of the art of Warre printed in these Times : as a French Doctor I woo'd have given you pellets for pills , but as my noblest Lord , rip my heart out in your service .

Med. Thou art the truest Clocke That e're to time paidst tribute , ( honest Souldier ) I lost mine owne shape , and put on a French , Onely to try thy truth , and the Kings falshood , Both which I find : now this great Spanish volume Is open'd to me , I read him o're and o're , Oh what blacke Characters are printed in him . Car. Nothing but certaine ruine threat your Neece . Without prevention : well , this plot was laid In such disguise to sound him , they that know How to meet dangers , are the lesse afraid ; Yet let me counsell you not to text downe These wrongs in red lines . Med. No , I will not , father ; Now that I have Anatomiz'd his thoughts , I'le read a lecture on 'em that shall save Many mens lives , and to the kingdome minister Most wholesome Surgery ; heres our Aphorisme ; These letters from us in our Neeces name , You know treat of a marriage . Car. There's the strong Anchor To stay all in this tempest . Med. Holy Sir , With these worke you the King , and so prevaile , That all these mischiefes Hull with Flagging saile , Car. My best in this I'le doe . Med. Souldier , thy brest I must locke better things in . Bal. 'Tis your chest ,

With 3 good keyes to keep it from opening , an honest hart , a daring hand , and a pocket which scornes mony .

Exeunt
Actus Quintus ,
Scoena Prima . Enter King , Cardinall with letters . Kin. COmmend us to Medina , say his letters Right pleasing are , and that ( except himselfe ) Nothing could be more welcome : counsell him ( To blot the opinion out of factious numbers ) Onely to have his ordinary traine Waiting upon him : for , to quit all feares Vpon his side of us , our very Court Shall even but , dimly shine with some few Dons , Freely to prove our longings great to peace . Car. The Constable expects some pawne from you . That in this Fairy circle shall rise up No Fury to confound his Neece nor him . Kin. A Kings word is engag'd . Car. It shall be taken . Kin. Valasco , call the Captaine of our Guard , Bid him attend us instantly . Val. I shall Kin. Lopez come hither : see Letters from Duke Medina , both in the name Of him and all his Faction , offering peace , And our old love ( his Neece ) Onaelia In marriage with her free and faire consent To Cockadillia , a Don of Spaine . Lop. Will you refuse this ? Kin. My Crowne as soone : they feele their sinowy plots Belike to shrinke i'th joynts ; and fearing Ruine , Have found this Cement out to piece up all , Which more endangers all . Lop. How Sir endangers ! Kin. Lyons may hunted be into the snare , But if they once breake loose , woe be to him That first seiz'd on 'em . A poore prisoner scornes To kisse his Iaylor ; and shall a King be choak'd With sweet-meats , by false Traytors ! no , I will fawne On them , as they stroake me , till they are fast But in this paw : And then . Lop. A brave revenge . The Captaine of your Guard . Enter Captaine . Kin. Vpon thy life Double our Guard this day : let every man Beare a charg'd Pistoll , hid ; and at a watch-word Given by a Musket , when our selfe sees Time , Rush in ; and if Medina's Faction wrastle Against your forces , kill ; but if yeeld , save : Be secret . Alanz. I am charm'd , Sir . Exit . Kin. Watch , Valasco , If any weare a Crosse , Feather , or Glove , Or such prodigious signes of a knit Faction , Table their names up : at our Court-gate plant Good strength to barre them out , if once they swarme : Doe this upon thy life . Val. Not death shall fright me . Exeunt . Enter Baltazar . Bal. 'Tis done , Sir . Kin. Death ! what's done ? Bal. Young Cub's flayd , But the shee-Fox shifting her hole is fled ; The little Iackanapes the boy's braind . Kin. Sebastian ? Bal. He shall ne're speake more Spanish . Kin. Thou teachest me to curse thee . Bal. For a bargaine you set your hand to . Kin. Halfe my Crowne I'de lose , were it undone . Bal. But halfe a Crowne ! that's nothing : His braines sticke in my conscience more than yours . Kin. How lost I the French Doctor ? Bal.

As French-men lose their haire : here was too hot staying for him .

Kin. Get thou too from my sight , the Queen wu'd see thee . Bal. Your gold , Sir . Kin. Goe with Iudas and repent . Bal. So men hate whores after lusts heat is spent : I'me gone , Sir . Kin. Tell me true , is he dead ? Bal. Dead . Kin. No matter ; tis but morning of revenge , The Sun-set shall be red and Tragicall . Exit . Bal. Sinne is a Raven creaking her owne fall . Exit . Enter Medina , Daenia , Alba , Carlo , and the Faction with Rosemary in their hats . Med. Keepe lock'd the doore , and let none enter to us But who shares in our fortunes . Daen. Locke the dores . Alb. What entertainment did the King bestow Vpon your letters and the Cardinals ? Med. With a devouring eye he read'em o're , Swallowing our offers into his empty bosome , As gladly as the parched earth drinks healths Out of the cup of heaven . Carl. Little suspecting What dangers closely lye enambushed . Daen. Let not us trust to that ; there's in his brest Both Fox and Lion , and both those beasts can bite : We must not now behold the narrowest loope-hole , But presently suspect a winged bullet Flyes whizzing by our eares . Med. For when I let The plummet fall to sound his very soule In his close-chamber , being French-Doctor like , He to the Cardinals eare sung sorcerous notes , The burthen of his song , to mine , was death , Onaelia's murder , and Sebastians ; And thinke you his voyce alters now ? 'tis strange , To see how brave this Tyrant shewes in Court , Throan'd like a god : great men are petty starres , Where his rayes shine , wonder fills up all eyes By sight of him , let him but once checke sinne , About him round all cry , oh excellent King ! Oh Saint-like man ! but let this King retire Into his Closet to put off his robes , He like a Player leaves his part off too ; Open his brest , and with a Sunne-beame search it , There's no such man ; this King of gilded clay , Within is uglinesse , lust , treachery , And a base soule , tho reard Collossus-high . Baltazar beats to come in . Daen. None till he speakes , and that we know his voyce : Who are you ? Within Bal. An honest house-keeper in Rosemary-lane too , If you dwell in the same parish . Med. Oh tis our honest Souldier , give him entrance . Enter Baltazar . Bal.

Men show like coarses , for I meet few but are stuck with Rosemary : every one ask'd mee who was married to day , and I told 'em Adultery and Repentance , and that shame and a Hangman followed'em to Church .

Med. There's but two parts to play , shame has done hers , But execution must close up the Scane , And for that cause these sprigs are worne by all , Badges of Marriage , now of Funerall , For death this day turnes Courtier Bal. Who must dance with him ? Med. The King , and all that are our opposites : That dart or This must flye into the Court Either to shoot this blazing starre from Spaine , Or else so long to wrap him up in clouds , Till all the fatall fires in him burne out , Leaving his State and conscience cleere from doubt Of following uprores . Alb. Kill not , but surprize him . Carl. Thats my voyce still . Med. Thine , Souldier . Bal.

Oh this Collicke of a kingdome , when the wind of treason gets amongst the small guts , what a rumbling and a roaring it keepes : and yet make the best of it you can , it goes out stinking : kill a King ?

Daen.

Why ?

Bal.

If men should pull the Sun out of heaven every time tis ecclips'd , not all the Wax nor Tallow in Spaine woo'd serve to make us Candles for one yeare .

Med.

No way to purge the sicke State , but by opening a vaine .

Bal.

Is that your French Physicke ? if every one of us shoo'd be whip'd according to our faults , to be lasht at a carts taile would be held but a flea-biting .

Enter Signeor No : whispers Medina . Med. What are you ? come you from the King ? No. No . Bal. No ? more no's ? I know him , let him enter . Med. Signeor , I thanke your kind Intelligence , The newes long since was sent into our eares . Yet we embrace your love , so fare you well . Carl. Will you smell to a sprig of Rosemary ? No. No . Bal. Will you be hang'd ? No. No . Bal. This is either Signeor No , or no Signeor . Med. He makes his love to us a warning-peece To arme our selves against we come to Court , Because the guard is doubled . Omnes . Tush , we care not . Bal.

If any here armes his hand to cut off the head , let him first plucke out my throat : in any Noble Act I le wade chin-deepe with you : but to kill a King ?

Med.

No , heare me —

Bal.

You were better , my Lord , saile 500 times to Bantom in the West-Indies , than once to Barathrum in the Low-Countries : It's hot going under the line there , the Callenture of the soule is a most miserable madnesse .

Med. Turne then this wheele of Fate from shedding blood Till with her owne hand Iustice weyes all . Bal. Good . Exeunt . Enter Queene , Malateste . Quee. Must then his Trul be once more sphear'd in Court To triumph in my spoyles , in my ecclipses ? And I like moaping Iuno sit , whilst Iove Varies his lust into five hundred shapes To steale to his whores bed ! no , Malateste , Italian fires of Iealousie burne my marrow ; For to delude my hopes , the leacherous King Cuts out this robe of cunning marriage , To cover his Incontinence , which flames Hot ( as my fury ) in his blacke desires : I am swolne big with child of vengeance now , And till deliver'd , feele the throws of hell . Mal. Iust is your Indignation , high , and Noble , And the brave heat of a true Florentine ; For Spaine Trumpets abroad her Interest In the Kings heart , and with a blacke cole drawes On every wall your scoff'd at injuries , As one that has the refuse of her sheets , And the sicke Autumne of the weakned King , Where she drunke pleasures up in the full spring . Quee. That ( Malateste ) That , That Torrent wracks me : But Hymens Torch ( held downe-ward ) shall drop out , And for it , the mad Furies swing their brands About the Bride-chamber . Mal. The Priest that joynes them , Our Twin-borne malediction . Quee. Lowd may it speake . Mal. The herbs and flowers to strew the wedding way , Be Cypresse , Eugh , cold Colliquintida . Quee. Henbane and Poppey , and that magicall weed Which Hags at midnight watch to catch the seed . Mal. To these our execrations , and what mischiefe Hell can but hatch in a distracted braine , I le be the Executioner , tho it looke So harrid it can fright e'ne murder backe . Quee. Poyson his whore to day , for thou shalt wait On the Kings Cup , and when heated with wine He cals to drinke the Brides health , Marry her A liue to a gaping grave . Mal. At board ? Quee. At board . Mal. When she being guarded round about with friends , Like a faire Iland , hem'd with Rockes and Seas , What rescue shall I find ? Quee. Mine armes : dost faint ? Stood all the Pyrenaean hills that part Spaine and our Country , on each others shoulders , Burning with Aetnean flame , yet thou shouldst on , As being my steele of resolution , First striking sparkles from my flinty brest : Wert thou to catch the horses of the Sunne Fast by their bridles , and to turne backe day , Woodst thou not doo't ( base coward ) to make way To the Italians second blisse ( revenge . ) Mal. Were my bones threatned to the wheele of torture I'le doo't . Enter Lopez . Quee. A Ravens voyce , and it likes me well . Lop. The King expects your presence . Mal. So , so , we come To turne this Brides day to a day of doome . Exeunt . A Banquet set out , Cornets sounding ; Enter at one dore Lopez , Valasco , Alanzo , No : after them King , Cardinall , with Don Cockadillio Bridegroome , Queene and Malateste after . At the other dore Alba , Carlo , Roderigo , Medina and Daenia leading Onaelia as Bride , Cornego and Iuanna after , Bartazar alone , Bride and Bridegroome kisse , and by the Cardinall are joyn'd hand in hand : King is very merry , hugging Medina very lovingly . Kin. For halfe Spaines weight in Ingots I'de not lose This little man to day . Med. Nor for so much Twice told , Sir , would I misse your kingly presence ; Mine eyes have lost th'acquaintance of your face So long , and I so ( little ) late read o're That Index of the royall booke your mind , That scarce ( without your Comment ) can I tell When in those leaves you turne o're smiles or frownes . Kin. 'Tis dimnesse of your sight , no fault i'th letter : Medina , you shall find that free from Errata's : And for a proofe , If I could breath my heart in welcomes forth , This Hall should ring naught else ; welcome Medina , Good Marquesse Daenia , Dons of Spaine all welcome : My dearest love and Queene , be it your place To entertaine the Bride , and doe her grace . Quee. With all the love I can , whose fire is such , To give her heat , I cannot burne too much . Kin. Contracted Bride , and Bridegroome sit , Sweet flowres not pluck'd in season , lose their scent , So will our pleasures ; Father Cardinall , Me thinkes this morning new-begins our reigne . Car. Peace had her Sabbath ne're till now in Spaine . Kin. Where is our Noble Souldier Baltazar ? So close in conference with that Signior ? No. No . Kin. What think'st thou of this great day , Baltazar ? Bal.

Of this day ? why as of a new play , if it ends well , all's well ; all men are but Actors , now if you being the King , should be out of your part , or the Queene out of hers , or your Dons out of theirs , here's No wil never be out of his .

No.

No .

Bal.

'Twere a lamentable peece of stuffe to see great Statesmen have vile Exits ; but I hope there are nothing but plaudities in all your eyes .

Kin. Mine I protest are free . Quee. And mine by heaven . Mal. Free from one good looke till the blow be given . Kin. Wine ; a full Cup crown'd to Medina's health . Med. Your Highnesse this day so much honors me , That I to pay you what I truly owe , My life shall venture for it . Dæn. So shall mine . Kin. Onaelia , you are sad : why frownes your brow ? Onae. A foolish memory of my past ills Folds up my looke in furrowes of old care , But my heart's merry , Sir . Kin. Which mirth to heighten , Your Bridegroome and your selfe first pledge this health Which we begin to our high Constable . Three Cups fild : 1. to the King . 2. to the Bridegroome . 3. to Onaelia , with whom the King complements . Quee. Is t speeding ? Mal. As all our Spanish figs are . Kin. Here's to Medina's heart with all my heart . Med. My hart shal pledge your hart i'th deepest draught That ever Spanyard dranke . Kin. Medina mockes me , Because I wrong her with the largest Bowle : I'le change with thee , Onaelia . Mal. rages . Quee. Sir you shall not . Kin. Feare you I cannot fetch it off ! Quee. Malateste ! Kin. This is your scorne to her , because I am doing This poorest honour to her : Musicke sound , It goes were it ten fadoms to the ground . Cornets . King drinkes , Queen and Mal. storms . Mal. Fate strikes with the wrong weapon . Quee. Sweet royall Sir no more , it is too deepe . Mal. Twill hurt your health sir . Kin. Interrupt me in my drinke : tis off . Mal. Alas sir ; You have drunke your last , that poyson'd bowle I fill'd Not to be put into your hand , but hers . Kin. Poyson'd ? Omnes . Descend blacke speckled soule to hell . kil Mal. dyes . Mal. The Queene has sent me thither . Card. What new furie shakes now her snakes locks . Quee. I , I , tis I ; Whose soule is torne in peeces , till I send This Harlot home . Car. More murders ! save the Lady . Balt. Rampant ? let the Constable make a mittimus . Med. Keepe 'em asunder . Car. How is it , royall sonne ? Kin. I feele no poyson yet , onely mine eyes Are putting out their lights : me thinks I feele Deaths Icy fingers stroking downe my face ; and now I'me in a mortall cold sweat . Quee. Deare my Lord . Kin. Hence , call in my Physicians . Med. Thy Physician , Tyrant , Dwels yonder , call on him or none . Kin. Bloody Medina , stab'st thou Brutus too ? Daen. As hee is , so are we all . Kin. I burne , My braines boyle in a Caldron , O one drop Of water now to coole me . Onae. Oh let him have Physicians . Med. Keepe her backe . Kin. Physicians for my soule , I need none else ; You'll not deny me those : oh holy Father , Is there no mercy hovering in a cloud For me a miserable King so drench'd In perjury and murder ? Car. Oh Sir great store . Kin. Come downe , come quickly downe . Car. I'le forthwith send For a grave Fryer to be your Confessor . Kin. Doe , doe . Car. And he shall cure your wounded soule : Fetch him good Sovldier . Bal. So good a worke I'le hasten . Kin. Onaelia ! oh shee's drown'd in teares ! Onaelia , Let me not dye unpardoned at thy hands . Enter Baltazar , Sebastian as a Fryer , with others . Car. Here comes a better Surgeon . Seb. Haile my good Sonne , I come to be thy ghostly Father . Kin. Ha ? my child 'tis my Sebastian , or some spirit Sent in his shape to fright me . Bal.

'Tis no gobling , Sir , feele ; your owne flesh and blood , and much younger than you tho he be bald , and cals you son ; had I bin as ready to ha cut his sheeps throat , as you were to send him to the shambles , he had bleated no more ; there's lesse chalke upon you score of sinnes by these round o'es .

Kin. Oh my dul soule looke up , thou art somwhat lighter , Noble Medina , see Sebastian lives : Onaelia cease to weepe , Sebastian livea ; Fetch me my Crowne : my sweetest pretty Fryer , Can my hands doo't , I le raise thee one step higher Th'ast beene in heavens house all this while sweet boy . Seb. I had but course cheere . Kin. Thou couldst ne're fare better : Religious houses are those hyves , where Bees Make honey for mens soules : I tell thee , Boy , A Fryery is a Cube , which strongly stands , Fashioned by men , supported by heavens hands : Orders of holy Priest-hood are as high I'th eyes of Angels , as a Kings dignity : Both these unto a Crowne give the hill weight , And both are thine : you that our Contract know , See how I seale it with this Marriage ; My blessing and Spaines kingdome both be thine . Omnes . Long live Sebastian . Onae. Doff that Fryers course gray ; And since hee's crown'd a King , clothe him like one . Kin. Oh no : those are right soveraigne Ornaments ; Had I beene cloth'd so , I had never fill'd 〈…〉 My worke is almost finish'd : where's my Queene ? Quee. Here peece-meale torne by Furies . Kin. Onaelia ! Your hand Paulina too , Onaelia yours : This hand ( the pledge of my twice broken faith ) By you usurp'd is her Inheritance ; My love is turn'd , see as my fate is turn'd , Thus they to day laugh , yesterday which mourn'd : I pardon thee my death ; let her be sent Backe into Florence with a trebled dowry ; Death comes : oh now I see what late I fear'd ! A Contract broke , tho piec'd up ne're so well , Heaven sees , earth suffers , but it ends in hell . moritur . Onae. Oh I could dye with him . Quee. Since the bright spheare I mov'd in falls , alas what make I here ? Exit . Med. The hammers of black mischiefe now cease beating , Yet some Irons still are heating : you , Sir Bridegroome , ( Set all this while up as a marke to shoot at ) We here discharge you of your bed-fellow , Shee loves no Barbars washing . Cock. My Balls are sav'd then . Med. Be it your charge , so please you reverend Sir , To see the late Queene safely sent to Florence : My Neece Onaelia , and that trusty Souldier , We doe appoint to guard the Infant King : Other distractions , Time must reconcile ; The State is poyson'd like a Crocodile . Exeunt FINIS .
A11145-king 149 A11145-baltazar 140 A11145-onaelia 98 A11145-medina 70 A11145-queen 57 A11145-cardinal 52 A11145-cornego 47 A11145-malateste 34 A11145-poet 19 A11145-daenia 17 A11145-alba 11 A11145-omnes 9 A11145-lopez 8 A11145-carlo 8 A11145-sebastian 8 A11145-question 7 A11145-answer 7 A11145-cockadillio 6 A11145-no 5 A11145-unassigned 4 A11145-alanzo 4 A11145-valasco 3 A11145-roderigo 2
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yo●r the work modestly depending in the skale of your Iudgement , the Printer for his part craves Roderig● Roderigo . Seba●tian Sebastian Her Sonne . ●●orentine Malateste A Florentine . Cockadillie Cockadillio A foolish Courtier . so●nd Enter in Magnificent state , to the sound of lowd musicke , the King and Queene , m●ficke Magnificent state , to the sound of lowd musicke , the King and Queene , as from Church , a●tended , the King and Queene , as from Church , attended by the Cardinall , Count Malateste , Daenia Mala●este Church , attended by the Cardinall , Count Malateste , Daenia , Roderigo , Valasco , Alba , Carlo w●tting Roderigo , Valasco , Alba , Carlo , and some waiting Ladies . The King and Queene with Courtly C●mplements Ladies . The King and Queene with Courtly Complements salute and part ; she with one halfe attending d●sirous th'other halfe stay , the King seeming angry and desirous to be rid of them too . — King Cardinall 〈◊〉 waxen Tapers : the Kings Picture at one end , a crucifix at the other , Onaelia walking d●st What dost thou feed on ? ●hat Pray that agen , my Lord . ch●efe roome hung in blacke ! and you Drest like chiefe Mourner at a Funerall ? Florenee The Church commands her quicke returne for Florence , With such a dower as Spaine received with vengegnce Is there a vengeance Yet lacking to my ruine ? let it fall , veneeance Attir'd in robes of vengeance , Are you , Vncle ? then● These pide-wing'd Butterflyes had knowne me then: Another flye-boat Save thee , Illustrious 〈◊〉 Butterflyes had knowne me then● Another flye-boat Save thee , Illustrious Don . ofan And for thy No , but whiffing Gunpowder Out of an Iron pipe , I woo'd but aske thee If Ienne●s thou payst not thy Mercer : meere Spanish Iennets , disterence I never see a Taylor give his coat with a difference from a Gentleman ? pitch● My musicke is a Canon ; a pitcht field my stage ; Furies the Actors , blood insconco here we fight , there they flye , here they insconce , and here our sconces lay 17 Moones on ou● they flye , here they insconce , and here our sconces lay 17 Moones on the cold earth whieh Canon , these are our Roarers ; the Clockes which wee goe by , are our hands ; thus wee reckon Maskets swords and Targets clash'd and clatter'd , Muskets ratled , Canons roar'd , men dyed groaning ●ost pell mell ; here fell a wing , there heads were lost like foot-balls ; legs and armes quarrell'd tea●e I'le teare him with my nayles , Let me come in , let blisle the fayrest head in the heard , everlasting blisse . Y●s Yes , yes , I am ; but 'tis no point of weapon brow● Thou dyest , when next thou furrowest up our brow. ipel●s onely counter-charmes of fire , And blow the spells of lightning into smoake : Fetch burning mour●e rage on fire , in such a presence To have it mourne in Ashes ? dcceiv'd your Oracles Now laugh at me if I have beene deceiv'd By their ridiculous riddles : why ( good Rai●e scold of the whole world ( Fame ) will anon Raile with her thousand tongues at this poore Exe●●t Exeunt . Alb● Manent Daenia , Alba . Co●tract with fruitlesse joy Because he hopes his Contract is cut off Which Divine lustice more exemplifies linghtning Wrapt up in clouds of lightning ? 〈◊〉 What has he done ? saw you the Contract torne As I did heare a minion sweare he threatned Cornogo Enter Onaelia one way , Cornego another . water-●paiel He desires to see you : and if you love a water-spaniel before he be shorne , see him . ▪ Good wishes are most welcome ( Sir ) to me , So many bad ones blast me . bandved I am bandyed too much up and downe already . a●ready I am bandyed too much up and downe already . Sould● shee has beene strucke under line , master Souldier . ●ot the man has left you , but because you are not the woman you would be , that mads you : On●●. Onæ. poyton'd beholds it , O yet I'de rather Ten thousand poyson'd ponyards stab'd my brest Than one should H●nginan his : bloudy slave ! I'le play My selfe the Hangman , and will Butcher thee If thou but prick'st prick●●t Hangman , and will Butcher thee If thou but prick'st his finger . ●aist Saist thou ●ne so ! give me thy goll , thou art ●ne Saist thou me so ! give me thy goll , thou art a noble voy●e the Devils part , and roare in a feigned voyce , but I am the honestest Devill that ever drin●e Devill that ever spet fire : I would not drinke that infernall draught of a Kings blood inf●rnall ever spet fire : I would not drinke that infernall draught of a Kings blood , to goe recling recling infernall draught of a Kings blood , to goe reeling to damnation , for the weight of the world ●'le I'le call thee honest Souldier then , and woo aston● Your servant ; Yet must I be a stone upon a hill , For tho I doe no good , I'le Malattste Enter Malateste and the Queene . ●●be as thou then hast eyes To read my wrongs , so be thy head an Engine To raise up ponderous ●ere sharp-witted fellowes , And of good ranke ) here with two Iesuits ( Grave profound Schollers mov●d propositions ; at the last , Question was mov'd touching your marriage , And the ●ings precontract ●ings was mov'd touching your marriage , And the Kings precontract . chance● Whether it were a question mov'd by chance, Or spitefully of purpose ( I being there wh●ch thereof , Together with these earth-quakes , which will shake All● paine , if they their Prince All● with these earth-quakes , which will shake All paine , if they their Prince doe dis-inherit paine these earth-quakes , which will shake All● Spaine , if they their Prince doe dis-inherit , da●ghter So borne , of such a Queene ; being onely daughter To such a brave spirit as the Duke of Florence buzz●d spirit as the Duke of Florence , All this buzz'd into the King , he cannot chuse But charge T●●is charge that all the Bels in Spaine eccho up This Ioy to heaven ; that Bone-fires change the combide Is hereby made of any faction That shall combine against you ; which the King seeing , If wee●ll booke , which reading o're Their counterspels wee'll breake ; or if the King Will not by strong Heres● Here's a parcell of mans flesh has beene hanging s●a Here a parcell of mans flesh has beene hanging soilemne Of the sollemne Triumphs Set forth at Coronation of the Hi●ing Hissing ( the Poets whirle-wind ) blast thy lines whir●e-wind Hissing ( the Poets whirle-wind ) blast thy lines . Com'st thou to mocke Dedieation When her funerals are past , Crowne thou a Dedication to my joyes , And thou shalt sweare each On●e. Onae. flavish wretches not worth striking , But fawne with slavish flattery on damn'd vices , So great men cos●ins gawdy Tombe with glory of his Verse , Which coffins stinking Carrion : no , his lines Are free Po●ts Are they borne Poets ? F●aver Inflammation of the Livor , it dyed of a burning Feaver . Ala●zo Enter Medina , Alanzo , Carlo , Alba , Sebastian , Denia . r●venge your Noble friends and kinsmen ready To pay revenge his due . D●n. Dæn. S●b. Seb. ●le Ile make him love her when I am a King . Yo● when once drawne forth , till they ha forc'd You godlesse , perjurous , perfidious man , per●idious they ha forc'd You godlesse , perjurous , perfidious man , — flowly open eyes let's sleepe , Streames smooth and slowly running , are most deepe . L●pez Enter King , Queene , Malateste , Valaseo , Lopez . Antidot●s all unto me , You bring me poyson , but no Antidotes . drench●d true Musicke , Sir : The mischiefes you are drench'd in are so full , You need not feare to adde l●ike his All yes and friends rush into troopes Like raging Torrents . ●al. Val. tosle am full of thoughts , A thousand wheeles tosse my incertaine feares , There is a storme ●al. Val. ing murder all the story we shall read ? What ● King can stand , when thus his Subjects bleed ●ound 'Tis found in Baltazar . L●p. Lop. ●aire 'Tis a faire gage , keepe it . Ste●l●tto's mine : I have a private Coat for Italian Stelletto's , I can be treacherous with the Wallowne ● That Spaine be free from frights , the King from feares, And I , now held his Infamy , be called 〈◊〉 , I le doo't , provided I heare Iove call too tho he rores ; I must have the Kings hand war● rores ; I must have the Kings hand to this warrant, else I dare not serve it upon my Conscience Hee s found the mettall hard , but with oft beating Hees now so softned , he shall take impression smothoring Starving ? or strangling , stabbing , smothering ? maduesse Fire all the Tacklings , and to crowne this madnesse , Shoo'd blow up all the Deckes , burne Sho●'d Tacklings , and to crowne this madnesse , Shoo'd blow up all the Deckes , burne th'oaken vaslaile which few dwell : ( pure honesty ! ) I am a vassaile to Medina's house , He taught me first the ● thou art thy selfe still , Noble Baltazar , I ever knew thee honest , and the marke Stands bas●nesse thee valiant , and to scorne All acts of basenesse : I have seene this man Write in the field Puntillious Philosophy of fighting , His deeds were so Punctillious : In one battell , When death so nearely Redeem d day ( even through the jawes of danger ) Redeem'd me up , and ( I shall print it ever ) Stood flaughter Goe fetch the mark'd-out Lambe for slaughter hither , Good fellow-souldier ayd him , Monas●ery darknesse , forthwith be conveyed To the Monastery of Saint Paul . C●nter , when a kingdome Stands tottering at the Center , out of suspition Safety growes often ; ●very Perhaps is made his Creature , To turne round every way . gapcs That's halfe the prize he gapes for . D●en. Dæn. D●en. Dæn. min●'d What's here ? a letter minc'd into five morsels ? What was she doing when here●s Some thinks , for here's nothing but sol-Re-me-fa-mi . What Crochet m●d Crochets , 'tis onely the Cliffe has made her mad . instrum●nt A wind instrument , she did nothing but sigh . raggamu●●in foule ; re , is all rent and torne like a raggamuffin ; me , mend it good Captaine ; fa , fa , M● Mr , Captaine , with all my heart ; haue I Sol●s Sol , Re , me , fa , mi , I have it now , Solus Rex me facit miseram : Alas poore Lady , 〈◊〉 , fa , mi , I have it now , Sol●s Rex me facit miseram : Alas poore Lady , tell her no m●seram , mi , I have it now , Sol●s Rex me facit miseram : Alas poore Lady , tell her no Pothecary what s Assafetida ? whats that ? m●seram why when she cryes out , Solus Rex me facit miseram , she sayes in the Hypocronicall language bak d And what shall be bak'd in t ? dub d Or the Cony is dub'd , and three sheepskins ●f But , Sir , if evill dayes justle our prognostication to s●al'd Nor a Coranta neither , tho it were seal'd with Butter , and yet I know where they sto●d thought ) halfe in hell my selfe whilst I stood to view this peece . ●'th readers danger : 'tis indeed A scare-crow set i'th world to fright weake fooles : Hast thou Low-Count●ies Sir , I have search'd the records of the Low-Countries , and finde that by your pardon I need not find● search'd the records of the Low-Countries , and finde that by your pardon I need not care a pinne Fren●h Enter Cardinall , and Medina like a French Doctor . p●tite into your neare braver Melody dan dis vn petite pipe shall play upon to your great bon Grace staing is the tune you'll strike up , touch the string . l●prosie Crownes , I'le treble them Rid me but of this leprosie : thy name ? Do●tor Monsire Doctor Deuile . ● Shall I a second wheele adde to this mischiefe To M●d. Med. the● edge againe , this French-man Shall whet them on , that if thy pistoll faile , Or ponyard B●l. Bal. whole●some bowle of de bloody busher : tis very fine wholesome . stu●t must give pardon to me in unlocking A Cave stuft full with Serpents , which my State Threaten univrsall Suppose an universall Hot Pestilence beat her mortiferous wings Ae●culapian empty all our Achademes of Doctors , And Aesculapian spirits to charme this plague ? Thenten their bloods to gaine a kingdome greater Then ten times this . Who●e Rise my good Angell , Whose holy tunes beat from me that evill spirit ●erberus You Curre of Cerberus litter imbraee I'le make thee kisse his hand , imbrace him , love him And call him — Med●na Medina discovers . pr●nted little , the best booke of the art of Warre printed in these Times : as a French Doctor I woo'd Do●tor Warre printed in these Times : as a French Doctor I woo'd have given you pellets for pills ●em Anatomiz'd his thoughts , I'le read a lecture on 'em that shall save Many mens lives , and to here s kingdome minister Most wholesome Surgery ; heres our Aphorisme ; These letters from us in Fa●tion Medina , both in the name Of him and all his Faction , offering peace , And our old love ( his Onaeli● offering peace , And our old love ( his Neece ) Onaelia In marriage with her free and faire consent Dae●ia Enter Medina , Daenia , Alba , Carlo , and the Faction with Rosemary Carl● Enter Medina , Daenia , Alba , Carlo , and the Faction with Rosemary in their shar●s doore , and let none enter to us But who shares in our fortunes . ●entertainment What entertainment did the King bestow Vpon your letters and M●d. Med. bre●t Let not us trust to that ; there's in his brest Both Fox and Lion , and both those beasts lcope-hole bite : We must not now behold the narrowest loope-hole , But presently suspect a winged bullet r●ard lust , treachery , And a base soule , tho reard Collossus-high . Ha●gman Adultery and Repentance , and that shame and a Hangman followed'em to Church . dartor King , and all that are our opposites : That dart or This must flye into the Court Either ●cclips'd pull the Sun out of heaven every time tis ecclips'd , not all the Wax nor Tallow in Spaine woo'd ●ea-biting lasht at a carts taile would be held but a flea-biting . ●●gneor Signeor , I thanke your kind Intelligence , The ●nto Intelligence , The newes long since was sent into our eares . Yet we embrace your love , so le● here armes his hand to cut off the head , let him first plucke out my throat : in any me● ( Malateste ) That , That Torrent wracks me: But Hymens Torch ( held downe-ward ) shall Cypresle and flowers to strew the wedding way , Be Cypresse , Eugh , cold Colliquintida . we●d Henbane and Poppey , and that magicall weed Which Hags at midnight watch to catch the whor e Poyson his whore to day , for thou shalt wait On the Kings Q●●e. Quee. Pyrenoean Mine armes : dost faint ? Stood all the Pyrenaean hills that part Spaine and our Country , f●inty resolution , First striking sparkles from my flinty brest : Wert thou to catch the horses of blis●e coward ) to make way To the Italians second blisse ( revenge . ) Banq●et A Banquet set out , Cornets sounding ; Enter at one Ca●d●nall Valasco , Alanzo , No : after them King , Cardinall , with Don Cockadillio Bridegroome , Queene Cockadillie : after them King , Cardinall , with Don Cockadillio Bridegroome , Queene and Malateste after dimneste 'Tis dimnesse of your sight , no fault i'th letter : Medina Dania naught else ; welcome Medina , Good Marquesse Daenia , Dons of Spaine all welcome : My dearest burue fire is such , To give her heat , I cannot burne too much . Cardi●all their scent , So will our pleasures ; Father Cardinall , Me thinkes this morning new-begins our think●st What think'st thou of this great day , Baltazar ? D●●n. Dæn. Onael●a the King . 2. to the Bridegroome . 3. to Onaelia , with whom the King complements . On●●lia the largest Bowle : I'le change with thee , Onaelia . Malate●te Malateste ! ●ir Alas sir ; You have drunke your last , that poyson'd Hatlot soule is torne in peeces , till I send This Harlot home . backo Keepe her backe . do●ue Come downe , come quickly downe . F●tch And he shall cure your wounded soule : Fetch him good Sovldier . ●tis Ha ? my child 'tis my Sebastian , or some spirit Sent in his Seb●stian art somwhat lighter , Noble Medina , see Sebastian lives : Onaelia cease to weepe , Sebastian d●o't : my sweetest pretty Fryer , Can my hands doo't , I le raise thee one step higher Th'ast stiongly tell thee , Boy , A Fryery is a Cube , which strongly stands , Fashioned by men , supported by crown●d that Fryers course gray ; And since hee's crown'd a King , clothe him like one . ●overaigne Oh no : those are right soveraigne Ornaments ; Had I beene cloth'd so , I had 〈◊〉 Ornaments ; Had I beene cloth'd so , I had never fill'd 〈…〉 My worke is almost finish'd : where's 〈◊〉 mourn'd : I pardon thee my death ; let her be sent Backe into Florence with a trebled dowry Contra●t comes : oh now I see what late I fear'd ! A Contract broke , tho piec'd up ne're so well , Heaven ne●re fear'd ! A Contract broke , tho piec'd up ne're so well , Heaven sees , earth suffers , suffe●s piec'd up ne're so well , Heaven sees , earth suffers , but it ends in hell . Co●ck. Cock. O●aelia Queene safely sent to Florence : My Neece Onaelia , and that trusty Souldier , We doe appoint guarp that trusty Souldier , We doe appoint to guard the Infant King : Other distractions , Time