A Select Collection of Old English Plays Part 39
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_As she goes out, enter_ ELEAZAR, ZARACK, BALTHAZAR, _and Soldiers well armed; at sight of each other, all draw_.
CAR. Soldiers, call back the drum: we are betray'd.
ELE. Moors, stand upon your guard; avoid, look back.
QUEEN-M. What means this jealousy? Mendoza, Moor, Lay by your weapons and embrace; the sight Of this and this begets suspicion.
Eleazar, by my birth, he comes in peace: Mendoza, by mine honour, so comes he.
CAR. Discharge these soldiers then.
ELE. And these.
[_Soldiers stand aloof._
CAR. Away!
ELE. Go!
QUEEN-M. Soul, rejoice, to see this glorious day.
[_She joins them together; they embrace._
CAR. Your virtues work this wonder. I have met At her most dear command: what's your desires?
ELE. Peace and your honour'd arms: how loathingly I sounded the alarums, witness heaven.
'Twas not to strike your breast, but to let out The rank blood of ambition. That Philip Makes you his ladder, and being climb'd so high As he may reach a diadem, there you lie.
He's base-begotten,--that's his mother's sin.
QUEEN-M. G.o.d pardon it.
ELE. Ah! amen. But he's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, And rather than I'll kneel to him, I'll saw My legs off by the thighs, because I'll stand In spite of reverence: he's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, he's!
And to beat down his usurpation I have thrown about this thunder: but, Mendoza, The people hate him for his birth; He only leans on you, you are his pillar; You gone, he walks on crutches, or else falls.
Then shrink from under him; are not they Fools that, bearing others up, themselves seem low, Because they above sit high; why, you do so.
CAR. 'Tis true.
QUEEN-M. Behold this error with fix'd eyes.
CAR. 'Tis true. Well?
ELE. O, have you found it? Have you smelt The train of powder that must blow you up, Up into air? What air? Why this, a breath; Look you; in this time may a king meet death.
[Have] an eye to't, check it, check it.
CAR. How?
ELE. How? thus-- Steal from the heat of that incestuous blood, Where ravish'd honour and Philippo lies; Leave him; divide this huge and monstrous body Of armed Spaniards into limbs thus big: Part man from man, send every soldier home; I'll do the like: peace with an olive branch Shall fly with dovelike wings about all Spain; The crown, which I as a good husband keep, I will lay down upon the empty chair; Marry you the queen, and fill it: for my part, These knees are yours, sir.
CAR. Is this sound?
ELE. From my heart.
CAR. If you prove false----
ELE. If I do, let fire fall----
CAR. Amen.
ELE. Upon thy head [_Aside_]; and so it shall.
CAR. All of myself is yours; soldiers, begone.
ELE. And that way you.
CAR. The rest I will divide: The lords shall be convented.
ELE. Good.
CAR. Let's meet.
QUEEN-M. Where?
ELE. Here anon: this [_Aside_] is thy winding-sheet.
[_Exit_ CARDINAL. _The Moor walks up and down musing._
QUEEN-M. What shape will this prodigious womb bring forth, Which groans with such strange labour?
ELE. Excellent!
QUEEN-M. Why, Eleazar, art thou rapt with joys, Or does thy sinking policy make to sh.o.r.e?
ELE. Ha!
QUEEN-M. Eleazar, madman! hear'st thou, Moor?
ELE. Well so; you turn my brains; you mar the face Of my attempts i' the making; for this chaos, This lump of projects, ere it be lick'd over, 'Tis like a bear's conception; stratagems, Being but begot and not got out, are like Charg'd cannons not discharg'd--they do no harm Nor good. True policy, breeding in the brain, Is like a bar of iron, whose ribs being broken And soften'd in the fire, you then may forge it Into a sword to kill, or to a helmet to defend, Life. 'Tis therefore wit to try all fas.h.i.+ons, Ere you apparel villany. But--but I ha' suited him; fit, fit, O, fit!
QUEEN-M. How, prythee, how?
ELE. Why, thus;--yet, no;--let's hence My heart is nearest of my council, yet I scarce dare trust my heart with't; what I do, It shall look old the hour wherein 'tis born; Wonders twice seen are garments overworn.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE V.
_Enter_ CARDINAL _at one door_; PHILIPPO _half-armed, and two_ SOLDIERS _following him with the rest of the armour; the_ CARDINAL, _seeing him, turns back again_.
PHIL. Sirrah! you, cardinal! coward! run away!
A Select Collection of Old English Plays Part 39
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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Part 39 summary
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