A Select Collection of Old English Plays Part 38

ELE. May be so; But I'll be sworn thy mother was a queen; For her sake will I kill thee n.o.bly.

Fling me thy sword; there's mine. I scorn to strike A man disarm'd.

PHIL. For this dishonouring me, I'll give thee one stab more.

ELE. I'll run away, Unless thou change that weapon, or take mine.

PHIL. Neither.

ELE. Farewell.

PHIL. S'heart! stay; and if you dare, Do as I do, oppose thy naked breast Against this poniard; see! here's this for thine.

ELE. I am for thee, Philip.

PHIL. Come, nay, take more ground, That with a full career thou may'st strike home.

ELE. Thou'lt run away then?

PHIL. Ha!

ELE. Thou'lt run away then?

PHIL. Faith I will; but first on this I'll bear Thy panting heart, thy head upon thy spear.

ELE. Come.

_Enter_ CARDINAL _and_ KING OF PORTUGAL _on the one, and_ MOORS _on the other side_.

CAR. Side, upon the Moors.

1ST MOOR. Side, upon the cardinal.

PHIL. Hold, cardinal; strike not any of our side.

ELE. Hold, Moors; strike not any of our side.

PHIL. We two will close this battle.

ELE. Come, agreed.

Stand, armies, and give aim, whilst we two bleed.

CAR. With poniards! 'tis too desperate, dear Philip.

PHIL. Away! have at the Moor! s'heart! let me come.

KING OF P. Be arm'd with manly weapons: 'tis for slaves To dig their own and such unworthy graves.

ELE. I am for thee any way: thus or, see, thus; Here try the vigour of thy sinewy arm.

The day is ours already; brainless heads And bleeding bodies, like a crown, do stand About the temples of our victory.

Yet, Spaniards, if you dare, we'll fight it out Thus, man to man alone. I'll first begin And conquer, or in blood wade up to the chin.

PHIL. Let not a weapon stir but his and mine.

ELE. Nor on this side; conquest in blood shall s.h.i.+ne.

[_Alarum; they fight, the Moor is struck down, which his side seeing, step all in and rescue him; the rest join, and drive in the Moors. Alarum continuing, Spaniards and Moors, with drums and colours, fly over the stage, pursued by_ PHILIP, CARDINAL, KING OF PORTUGAL, _and others_.

_Enter_ ZARACK, CHRISTOFERO, _and_ ELEAZAR, _at several doors_.

CHRIS. Where is my lord?

ZAR. Where is my sovereign?

ELE. What news brings Zarack and Christofero?

ZAR. O, fly, my lords, fly, for the day is lost!

ELE. There are three hundred and odd days in a year, And cannot we lose one of them? come, fight.

CHRIS. The lords have left us, and the soldiers faint; You are round-beset with proud fierce enemies; Death cannot be prevented but by flight.

ELE. He shall, Christofero. I have yet left One stratagem that, in despite of fate, Shall turn the wheel of war about once more.

The mother-queen hath all this while sat sadly Within our tent, expecting to whose bosom White-winged peace and victory will fly: Her have I us'd as a fit property To stop this dangerous current; her have I sent, Arm'd with love's magic, to enchant the cardinal, And bind revenge down with resistless charms; By this time does she hang about his neck, And by the witchcraft of a cunning kiss Has she disarm'd him. Hark! they sound retreat; She has prevail'd; a woman's tongue and eye Are weapons stronger than artillery.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_ CARDINAL, QUEEN-MOTHER, SOLDIERS, _drums and colours_.

QUEEN-M. By all those sighs which thou, like pa.s.sionate tunes, Hast often to my dull ears offered, By all thy hopes to enjoy my royal bed, By all those mourning lines which thou hast sent, Weeping in black, to tell thy languishment; By love's best, richest treasure, which I swear I will bestow, and which none else shall wear, As the most prized jewel, but thyself; By that bright fire which, flaming through thine eyes, From thy love-scorched bosom does arise, I do conjure thee, let no churlish sound, With war's lewd horror my desires confound.

Dear, dear Mendoza; thus I do entreat, That still thou wouldst continue this retreat; I'll hang upon thee, till I hear thee say, Woman, prevail; or chiding, cri'st _Away_.

CAR. Is there no trick in this, forg'd by the Moor?

QUEEN-M. I would the Moor's d.a.m.nation were the ransom Of all the innocent blood that has been shed In this black day: I care not for the Moor; Love to my kingdom's peace makes me put on This habit of a suppliant; shall I speed?

CAR. You shall, were it to have my bosom bleed; I have no power to spare the negro's head, When I behold the wounds which his black hand Has given mine honour: but when I look on you, I have no power to hate him; since your breath Dissolves my frozen heart, being spent for him; In you my life must drown itself or swim.

You have prevail'd: drum, swiftly hence; call back Our fierce-pursuing troops, that run to catch The laurel wreath of conquest: let it stand Awhile untouch'd by any soldier's hand.

[_Exit drum._

Away! stay you and guard us. Where's the Moor?

I'll lose what I have got, a victor's prize, Yielding myself a prisoner to your eyes.

QUEEN-M. Mine eyes shall quickly grant you liberty.

The Moor stays my return; I'll put on wings, And fetch him; to make peace belongs to kings.