THE MARTYRED Soldier: As it was sundry times Acted with a general applause at the Private house in Drury lane, and at other public Theatres. By the queen's majesty's servants.  
The Author H. SHIRLEY Gent.  
LONDON: Printed by I. Okes, and are to be sold by Francis Eglesfield at his house in Paul's Churchyard at the sign of the Marigold. 1638.   

To the right worshipful Sir Kenelm Digby, Knight.  
SIR,  
Works of this Nature, may fitly be compared to small and narrow rivulets, that at first derive themselves to greater Rivers, and afterwards are discharged into the main Ocean: So Poesy rising from obscure and almost unminded beginnings, hath often advanced it Self, even to the thrones of Princes: witness that everliving Work of renowned Virgil, so much admired and favoured by magnificent Augustus: Nor can I much wonder that great men, and those of Excellent parts, have so often preferred Poesy, it being indeed, the sweetest and best speaker of all Noble Actions.  
Nor were they wont in ancient times to prefer those their Works to them they best knew, but unto some Person highly endued with Valour, Learning, and such other Graces, as render one man far more Excellent than many others. And this, I hope, may excuse my boldness, in this Dedication, being so much a stranger to your worship's knowledge, only presuming upon your Noble temper, ever apt to cherish well-affected studies. Likewise, this piece seemeth to have a more special kind of relation to your Self, more than to many others, it being an Exact and perfect pattern of a truly Noble and Warlike Christian.  
When it first appeared upon the Stage, it went off with Applause and favour, and my hope is, it may yield your Worship, as much content, as my self can wish, whoever rest to be commanded by your worship,  
In all duty and observance, I. K.   

To the Courteous Reader.  
TO make too large an explanation of this following Poem, were but to beguile thy appetite, and somewhat dull thy expectation; but the work itself being now an orphan, and wanting him to protect that first begot it, it were an injury to his memory to pass him unspoken of: For the man, his Muse was much Courted, but no common mistress; and though but seldom seen abroad, yet ever much admired at: This work not the meanest of his labours has much adorned not only one, but many Stages, with such a general applause; as it hath drawn even the Rigid Stoics of the Time, who though not for pleasure, yet for profit, have gathered something out of his plentiful Vineyard. My hopes are, it will prove no less pleasing to the Reader, than it has formerly been to the Spectators; and so proving, I have my aim and full desire, farewell.   

The Actors Names.  

Genzerick, King of the Vandals.  
anthony, 3. Noble men.  
Damianus, 3. Noble men.  
Cosmo., 3. Noble men.  
Hubert, A brave commander.  
Henerick, the Prince.  
belizarius, the General.  
Eugenius, a Christian Bishop.  
Epidaurus, a Lord.  
2. physicians.  
2. Pagans.  
1. Camel-driver.  
2, Camel-driver.  
Victoria, Wife to belizarius.  
Bellina, his Daughter.  
A Soldier.  
2. Angels.  
2. Christians tongueless.  
clown.  
Constable.  
3. Watchmen.  
3. Huntsmen.  
3. Other Camel-drivers.  
Officers and Soldiers.    

The Martyred Soldier.  

Actus primus,  

Scoena prima.  Enter Genzerick King of the Vandalls, sick on his Bed, Anthony, Damianus, Cosmo, and Lords. King. 
AWay, leave off your golden Flatteries,  
I know I cannot live; there's one lies here  
Brings me the news, my glories & my greatness  
Are come to nothing.  Anth. 
Be not yourself the Bell  
To tolle you to the Grave; and the good Fates,  
For aught we see, may wind upon your bottom  
A thread of excellent length.  Cosm. 
We hope the gods have not such rugged hands  
To snatch ye from us.  King. 
Cosmo, Damianus, and Anthony; you upon whom  
The Vandal State doth lean, for my back's too weak;  
I tell you once again, that surly Monarch,  
Who treads on all Kings throats, hath sent to me  
His proud Ambassadors: I have given them Audience  
Here in our Chamber Royal; nor could that move me  
To meet Death face to face, were my great work  
Once perfected in Afrique by my son,  
I mean that general sacrifice of Christians,  
Whose blood would wash the Temples of our gods,  
And win them bow down their immortal eyes  
Upon our offerings: yet I talk not idly,  
Yet anthony I may; for sleep I think  
Is gone out of my Kingdom, it is else fled  
To th' poor; for sleep oft takes the harder bed,  
And leaves the downy pillow of a King.  Cosm. 
Try Sir if Music can procure your rest.  King. 
Cosmo, 'tis sin to spend a thing so precious  
On him that cannot wear it: No, no, no Music;  
But if you needs will charm my o'er-watched eyes,  
Now grown too monstrous for their lids to close:  
If you so long to fill these Music-rooms  
With ravishing sounds indeed, unclasp that book,  
Turn o'er that Monument of Martyrdoms:  
Read there how Genzerick h'as served the gods,  
And made their Altars drunk with Christians blood:  
Whilst their loathed bodies, flung in funeral piles,  
Like Incense burnt in Pyramids of fire,  
And when their flesh and bones were all consumed,  
Their ashes up in Whirlwinds flew i'th' Air,  
To show that of four Elements, not one had care  
Of them, dead or alive; Read Anthony.  Anth. 
'Tis swelled to a fair Volume.  King. 
Would I lived to add a second part to't, read, & listen,  
No Vandal ere writ such a Chronicle.  Anth. 
Five hundred broiled to death in Oil and Lead,  
Seven hundred flayed alive, their Carcases  
Thrown to King Genzerick's hounds.  King. 
Ha, ha, brave Hunting.  Anth. 
Upon the great day of Apollo's Feast,  
The fourth Month of your Reign.  King. 
On, give me more,  
Let me die fat with laughing.  Anth. 
Thirty fair Mother's big with Christian brats,  
Upon a scaffold in the Palace placed,  
Had first their dugs seared off, their wombs ripped up,  
About their miscreant heads their first borne Sons  
tossed as a Sacrifice to jupiter  
On his great day, and the Ninth Month of Genzerick.  King. 
A Play, a Comical Stage our Palace was:  
Any more, oh let me surfeit.  Anth. 
four hundred Virgins ravished.  King. 
Christian Whores; common, 'tis common.  Anth. 
And then their trembling bodies tossed on the Pikes  
Of those that spoiled 'em, sacrificed to Pallas.  King. 
More, more, hang Maidenheads, Christian Maidenheads.  Anth. 
This leaf is full of tortured Christians.  
Some paunched, some starved, some eyes and brains bored out,  
Some whipped to death, some torn by lions.  King. 
Damianus, I cannot live to hear my service out,  
Such haste the gods make to reward me.  Omnes. 
Look to the King. Shouts within: Enter Hubert  King. 
What shouts are these? see Cosmo.  Cos. 
Good news my Lord; here comes Hubert from the wars  Hub. 
Long life and health: wait ever on the King.  King. 
Hubert, thy wishes are come short of both:  
Hast thou good news? be brief then, and speak quickly,  
I must else hear thee in another World.  Hub. 
In brief then know, Henrick your valiant son,  
With belizarius and myself, come laden  
With spoils to lay them at your feet:  
What lives the Sword spared, serve to grace your Triumph,  
Till from your lips they have the doom of death.  King. 
What are they?  Hub. 
Christians, and their Chief a Churchman:  
Eugenius, Bishop of Carthage, and with him  
Seven hundred Captives more, all Christians.  King. 
Hold Death, let me a little taste these joys,  
Then take me ravished hence: glad mine eyes Hubert  
With the victorious Boy.  Hub. 
Your Star comes shining. Exit Hubert  King. 
Lift me a little higher, yet more:  
Do the Immortal Powers pour blessings down,  
And shall I not return them?  Omnes. 
See they come.  A Flourish: Enter Henricke the Prince, belizarius, Hubert, leading Eugenius in Chains, with other Prisoners, and Soldiers. King. 
I have now lived my full time;  
Tell me my Henricke thy brave success,  
That my departing soul  
May with the story bless another world,  
And purchase me a passage.  Hen. 
Oh great Sir,  
All we have done dies here, if that you die;  
And heaven, before too prodigal to us,  
Shedding beams over-glorious on our heads,  
Is now full of Eclipses.  King. 
No boy, thy presence  
Has fetched life home to hear thee.  Hen. 
Then, Royal Father, thus;  
Before our Troops had reached the Afrique bounds,  
Wearied with tedious Marches, and those dangers  
Which wait on glorious War: the Africans  
afar had heard our Thunder, whilst their earth  
Did feel an earthquake in the people's fears,  
Before our Drums came near them: yet spite of terror  
They fortified their Towns, clothed all their fields  
With wars best bravery, armed Soldiers:  
At this we made a stand; for their bold troops  
Affronted us with steel; dared us to come on,  
And nobly fired our resolution.  King. 
So hasten; there's in me a battle too,  
Be quick, or I shall fall.  Hen. 
forefend it heaven.  
Now belizarius come; here stand, just here,  
And on him I beseech you fix your eye;  
For you have much to pay to this brave man.  Hub. 
Nothing to me?  Hen. 
I'll give you him in wonder.  Hub. 
Hang him out in a painted cloth for a monster.  Bel. 
My Lord, wrong not yourself to throw on me  
The honours which are all yours.  Hub. 
Is he the Devil? All.  Bel. 
Cast not your eyes on me Sir, but on him,  
And seal this to your soul, never had King  
A Son, that did to his Crown more honours bring.  Hen. 
Stay Bellizarius, I'm too true to honour,  
To scant it in the blazing: though to thee  
All that report can render leaves thee yet.  Hub. 
A brave man, you are so too, you both fought,  
And I stood idle?  Hen. 
No Sir.  Hub. 
Here's your battle then, and here's your conquest;  
What need such a coil?  Bel. 
Yet Hubert it craves more arithmetic,  
Than in one figure to be found.  King. 
Hubert, thou art too busy.  Hub. 
So was I in the battle.  King. 
Prithee peace.  Hen. 
The Almarado was on point to sound,  
But then a Herald from their Tents flew forth,  
Being sent to question us for what we came,  
And which, I must confess, being all on fire,  
We cried for war and death: Back rode the Herald  
As lightning had pursued him: but the Captains  
Thinking us tired with marching, did conceive  
Rest would make difficult, what easy now  
Quick charge might drive us too:  
So, like a storm, beating upon a wood of lusty Pines,  
Which though they shake, they keep their footing fast;  
Our Pikes their horses stood: hot was the day,  
In which, whole fields of men were swept away;  
As by sharp scythes are cut the golden corn,  
And in as short time: it was this man's sword  
Hewed ways to danger; and when danger met him,  
He charmed it thence, and when it grew again,  
He drove it back again: till at the length  
It lost the field; four long hours this did hold,  
In which more work was done than can be told.  Bel. 
But let me tell your Father how the first feather,  
That Victory herself plucked from her wings,  
She stuck it in your Burgonet.  Hub. 
Brave still.  Hen. 
No belizarius, thou canst guild thy honour's  
Horn from the reeking breasts of Africans,  
When I aloft stood wondering at those Acts  
Thy sword writ in the battle, which were such,  
Would make a man a soldier but to read 'em.  Hub. 
And what to read mine; is my book clasped up?  Bel. 
No, it lies open, where in Texed letters read  
Each Pioneer, that your unseasoned valour  
Had thrice engaged our fortunes and our men  
Beyond recovery, had not this arm redeemed you.  Hub. 
Yours?  Bel. 
For which your life was lost, for doing more  
Than from the general's mouth you had command.  Hub. 
You fill my praise with froth; as Tapsters fill  
Their cutthroat Cans; where give me but my due,  
I did as much as you, or you, or any.  Bel. 
Any?  Hub. 
Yes, none excepted.  Bael 
The Prince was there.  Hub. 
And I was there, since you draw one another,  
I will turn Painter too, and draw myself:  
Was it not I, that when the main Battalia  
Tottered, and four great squadrons put to rout,  
Then relieved them; and with this arm, this sword,  
And this affronting brow put them to flight,  
Chased 'em, slew thousands, took some few, and dragged 'em  
As slaves, tied to my saddle bow with Halters.  Hen. 
Yes Sir, 'tis true, but as he says your fury  
Left all our main Battalia well-nigh lost:  
For had the foe but reinforced again,  
Our Courages had been seized, any Ambuskado  
Cut you, and your rash troops off; if—  Hub. 
What if?  
Envy not honour still infers these ifs:  
It thrived and I returned with victory.  Bel. 
You?  Hub. 
I belizarius, ay, I found your troops  
Reeling and pale, and ready to turn Cowards,  
But you not in the head; when I (brave sir)  
Charged in the Rear, and shook their battle so,  
The Fever never left them till they fell;  
I pulled the Wings up, drew the rascals on,  
Clapped 'em, and cried follow, follow: this is the hand  
First touched the Gates, this foot first took the City,  
This Christian Churchman snatched I from the Altar,  
And fired the Temple: 'twas this sword was sheathed  
In panting bosoms, both of young and old,  
Fathers, sons, mothers, virgins, wives, and widows,  
Like death I havoc cried, so long, till I  
Had left no monuments of life or buildings,  
But these poor ruins; what these brave Spirits did  
Was like to this, I must confess 'tis true,  
But not beyond it.  King. 
You have done nobly all:  
Nor let the General think I foil his worth,  
In that I raise this forward youth so near  
Those honours he deserves from Genzerick,  
For he may live to serve my Henrick thus,  
And growing virtue must not want reward:  
You both allow these deeds he so much boasts of?  Hen. 
Yes, but not equal to the Generals.  King. 
The spoils they equally shall both divide;  
The General choose, 'tis his prerogative:  
belizarius be Vicegerent over all  
Those conquered parts of Afrique we call ours:  
Hubert the Master of my Henricks Horse,  
And President of what the Goths possess:  
Let this our last will stand.  Bel. 
We are richly paid.  Hub. 
Who earns it must have wages.  King. 
I'll see you embraced too.  Hub. 
With all my heart.  King. 
And belizarius  
Make him thy Scholar.  Hub. 
His Scholar!  King. 
There's stuff in him,  
Which tempered well, would make him a noble fellow.  
Now for these Prisoners, 'tis my best sacrifice  
My pious zeal can tender to the gods:  
I censure thus; let all be naked stripped,  
Then to the midst of the vast Wilderness  
That stands twixt us and wealthy Persia  
They shall be driven, and there wildly venture  
As Famine, or the fury of the Beasts  
Conspires to use them: which is that Bishop?  Hub. 
Stand forth; this is Eugenius.  Eug. 
I stand forth,  
Daring all tortures, kissing Racks and Wheels,  
And Flames, to whom I offer up this body.  
You keep us from our Crowns of Martyrdoms  
By this delaying; dispatch us hence.  King. 
Not yet Sir;  
Away with them, stay him, and if our gods  
Can win this Christian Champion now so stout  
To fight upon their sides, give him reward,  
Our gods will reach him praise.  Eug. 
Your gods, wretched souls.  King. 
My work is done, and Henrick as, thou lov'st  
Thy Father's soul, see every thing performed;  
This last injunction ties thee, so farewell:  
Let those I hated, in thy hate still dwell,  
I mean the Christians. dies.  Hen. 
Oh what a deal of greatness is  
Struck down at one blow!  Hub. 
Give me a battle,  
'Tis brave being struck down there.  Anth. 
Henrick my Lord,  
And now my Sovereign; I am by office bound  
To offer to your Royal hands this Crown,  
Which on my knees I tender, all being ready  
To set it on your head.  Omnes. 
Ascend your Throne:  
Long live the King of Vandals  
And of Goths, the mighty Henrick.  Hen. 
What must now be done?  Anth. 
By me each Officer of State resigns  
The Patten that he holds his office by,  
To be disposed as best shall please your Grace.  Hen. 
And I return them back to all their trusts.  
I rise in clouds, my Morning is begun  
From the eternal set of a bright Sun. Exeunt.  Drum, flourish: Enter Victoria and Bellina with servants. Vic. 
My Lord returned, prepare a costly banquet  
To gratulate his safe and wished Arrival:  
Let Music with her sweet-tongued Rhetoric  
Take out those horrors which the loud clamours  
Of Wars harsh harmony hath long besieged  
His tender senses with: your Father's come Bellina.  Bel. 
I feel the joy of it with you sweet Mother,  
And am as ready to receive a blessing from him,  
As you his chaste embraces.  Vic. 
So, so, bestir,  
Let all our loves and duties be expressed  
In our most diligent and active care. Enter belizarius.  
Here comes my comfort-bringer,  
My belizarius.  Bel. 
Dearest Victoria,  
My second joy, take thou a Father's blessing.  Vic. 
Not wounded Sir I hope?  Bel. 
No Victoria;  
Those were Rewards that we bestowed on others:  
We gave, but took none back; had we not you  
At home to hear our noble Victories,  
Our Fame should want her Crown, although she flew  
As high as yonder Axletree above,  
And spread in latitude throughout the world.  
We have subdued those men of strange belief  
Which Christians call themselves; a race of people,  
This must I speak of them; as resolute  
And full of courage in their bleeding falls,  
As should they triumph for a Victory:  
When the last groans of many thousand met,  
And like commixed Whirlwinds filled our ears:  
As it from us raised not a dust of pity,  
So did it give no terror to the rest,  
That did but live to see their fellows die.  
In all our rigours and afflicting tortures,  
We cannot say that we the men subdued,  
Because their joy was louder than our conquest,  
And still more work of blood we must expect,  
Like Hydra's Heads, by cutting off they double,  
As seed that multiplies, such are their dead,  
Next Moon a sheaf of Christians in ones stead.  Vic. 
This is a bloody Trade my belizarius,  
Would thou wouldst give it over.  Bel. 
'Tis work Victoria that must be done,  
These are the battles of our blessing,  
Pleasing gods and goddesses, who for our service  
Render us these Conquests.  
ourselves and our affairs we may neglect,  
But not our Deities, which these Christians profane,  
Deride, and scoff at; would new Laws  
Bring in, and a new god make.  Vic. 
No my Lord;  
I have heard say, they never make their gods,  
But they serve 'em they say, that did make them:  
All made-gods they despise.  Bel. 
Tush, tush Victoria, let not thy pity  
Turn to passions, they'll not deserve thy sorrow.  
How now, what's the news?  Enter a Soldier. Sold. 
Strange my Lord, beyond a wonder;  
For 'tis miraculous: Since you forsook  
The bloody fight, and horror of the Christians,  
One tortured wretch, whose sight was quite extinct,  
His eyes no farther seeing than his hands,  
Is now by that Eugenius, whom they call  
Their holy Bishop, clearly restored again,  
To the astonishment of all your Army,  
Who faintly now recoil with fear and terror,  
Not daring to offended so great a power.  Bel. 
Ha? 'tis strange thou tell'st me.  Vic. 
Oh take heed my Lord,  
It is no warring against heavenly Powers,  
Who can command their Conquest when they please:  
They can forbear the Giants that throw stones,  
And smile upon their follies; but when they frown,  
Their angers fall down perpendicular,  
And strike their weak Opposer into nothing;  
The Thunder tells us so.  Bel. 
Pray leave me all, I shall have company  
When you are gone, enough to fill the room.  Vic. 
The holiest powers  
Give thee their best direction. Exeunt. Manet belizarius  Bel. 
What power is that can fortify a man  
To joy in death, since all that we expect,  
Is but fruition of the joys of life.  
If Christians hoped not to become immortal,  
Why should they seek for death?  
Oh then instruct me some Divine power,  
Thou that canst give the sight unto the blind,  
Open my blind judgement, Thunder.  
That I may see a way to happiness. Enter an Angel.  
Ha, this is a dreadful answer; this may chide  
The relapse in my blood, that begins to faint,  
The further persecution of these people:  
Or shall I back, and double tyranny? Thunder.  
A louder threatening; oh mould these voices  
Into articulate words, that I may know  
Thy meaning better: shall I quench the flames  
Of blood and vengeance, and myself become  
A penetrable Christian, my life lay down  
Amongst their sufferings? Music.  
Ha, these are sweet tunes.  Ang. 
belizarius?  Bel. 
It names me too.  Ang. 
Sheath up thy cruelty; no more pursue  
In bloody forage these oppressed Christians;  
For now the Thunder will take their part,  
Remain in peace, and Music is thy banquet;  
Or thyself number 'mongst their martyring groans,  
And thou art numbered with these blessed ones.  Bel. 
What heavenly voice is this? shall my ears only  
Be left with raptures, not mine eyes enjoy  
The sight of that Celestial presence  
From whence these sweet sounds come?  Ang. 
Yes, thou shalt see: Nay then 'tis lost again. Bel. kneels.  
Rise, this is enough: be constant Soldier,  
Thy heart's a Christian; to death persever,  
And then enjoy the sight of Angels ever. Exit.  Bel. 
Oh let me fly into that happy place:  
Prepare your tortures now, you scourge of Christians,  
For belizarius the Christians' torturer,  
Centuple all that ever I have done,  
Kindle the fire, and hack at once with swords,  
Tear me by piecemeals, strangle, and extend  
My every limb and joint; nay, devise more  
Than ever did my bloody Tyrannies:  
Oh let me ever lose the sight of men,  
That I may see an Angel once again.    

ACTUS SECUNDUS.  Enter Hubert and Damianus. Hub. 
For look you Damianus, though Henrick, now King,  
Did in the battle well and belizarius enough for  
A General, did not I tell 'em home?  Dam. 
I heard it.  Hub. 
They shall not make bonfires of their own glories,  
And set up for me a poor wax Candle:  
To show mine I am full of gold now;  
What shall I do with it Damianus?  Dam. 
What do Mariners after boon voyages?  
But let all fly:  
And what Soldiers, when wars are done?  
But fatten peace.  Hub. 
Pox of Peace, she has churls enough to fatten her:  
I'll make me a chamois Doublet, embroidered  
All over with flowers of gold: in these days  
A woman will not look upon a man  
If he be not brave: over my Doublet a  
Soldado Cassock of Scarlet, larded thick with  
Gold Lace, Hose of the same Cloak of the same too,  
Lashed up this high, and richly lined:  
There was a Lady before I went, was working  
With her needle a scarf for me,  
But the Wagtail has left her nest.  Dam. 
No matter, there's enough such birds everywhere.  Hub. 
Yes, women are as common as glasses in Taverns,  
And often drunk in, and more often cracked;  
I shall grow lazy if I fight not:  
I would fain play with half a dozen Fencers;  
But it should be at sharp.  Dam. 
And they are all for foils.  Hub. 
Foiled let 'em be then.  Dam. 
You had fencing enough in the field, and for women,  
The Christians' field your markets.  Hub. 
Yes, and those markets were our Shambles, flesh enough,  
It made me weary of it: Since I came home  
I have been wondrous troubled in my sleeps,  
And often heard to sigh in dead of night,  
As if my heart would crack; you talk of Christians,  
I'll tell you a strange thing; a kind of melting in  
My soul, as 'twere before some heavenly fire,  
When in their deaths (whom they themselves call Martyrs)  
It was all rocky: nothing they say can soften  
A Diamond but goat's blood, they perhaps wit Lambs,  
In whose blood I was softened.  Dam. 
Pray tell how.  Hub. 
I will: after some three hours being in Carthage,  
I rushed into a Temple, Starred all with lights;  
Which with my drawn sword, rifling in a room,  
Hung full of Pictures, drawn so full of sweetness,  
They struck a reverence in me; found I a woman,  
A Lady all in white; the very Candles  
Took brightness from her eyes, and those clear Pearls,  
Which in abundance falling on her cheeks,  
Gave them a lovely bravery; at my rough entrance  
She shrieked, and kneeled, and holding up a pair  
Of Ivory fingered hands, begged that I would not  
(Though I did kill) dishonour her, and told me  
She would pray for me: never did Christian  
So near come to my heartstrings; I let my Sword  
Fall from me, stood astonished, and not only  
Saved her myself, but guarded her from others.  Dam. 
Done like a Soldier.  Hub. 
Blood is not ever  
The wholsom'st Wine to drink; doubtless these Christians  
Serve some strange Master, and it needs must be  
A wonderful sweet wages which he pays them:  
And though men murmur, get they once here footing,  
Then down goes our Religion, down our Altars,  
And strange things be set up— I cannot tell,  
We held so pure, find ways enough to hell:  
Fall out what can, I care not, I'll to belizarius.  Dam. 
Will you? pray carry to him my best wishes.  Hub. 
I can carry any thing but Blows, Coals, my Drink, and that clapper of the Devil, the tongue of a Scold: Farewell. Exeunt.  Flourish: Enter the King, Antony, Cosmo, all about the King, and belizarius. King. 
They swarm like Bees about us: insomuch  
Our People cannot sacrifice, nor give Incense,  
But with interruptions, they still are buzzing thus,  
Saying, Their Gods delight not in vain shows,  
But intellectual thoughts, pure and unstained:  
Therefore reduce them from their heresies,  
Or build our Prison walls with Christians bones.  
What thinks our belizarius? he that was wont  
To be more swift to execute, than we to command:  
Why sits not belizarius?  Bel. 
I dare not.  King. 
Protect me jove,  
Who dare gain say it?  Bel. 
I must not.  King. 
Say we command it.  Bel. 
Truth is, I neither can, nor will.  Omn. 
he's mad.  Bel. 
Yes I am mad,  
To see such Wolvish Tyrants, as you are,  
Pretend a justice, and condemn the just:  
Oh you white souls that hover in the air,  
Who through my blindness were made deaths prey:  
Be but appeased, you spotless Innocents,  
Till with my blood I have made a true atonement,  
And through those tortures, by this brain devised,  
In which you perished, I may fall as you,  
To satisfy your yet fresh bleeding memories,  
And meet you in that garden, where content  
Dwells only; that in blood did glory,  
Will now spend blood to heighten out your story.  Anton. 
Why belizarius—:  Bel. 
Hinder me not,  
I'm in a happy progress, would not change my guest,  
Nor be deterred by Moles and Worms that cannot see,  
Such as you are: alas I pity you.  Dam. 
The King's in presence.  Bel. 
I talk of one that's altitudes 'bove him,  
That owes all Principalities: he is no King  
That keeps not his decrees; nor am I bound  
In duty to obey him in unjust acts.  King. 
All leave the room. Exeunt Lords.  Omnes. 
We obey your highness.  King. 
Sir, nay sir good belizarius.  Bel. 
In that I do obey.  Kin. 
Do you make scruple then of our command?  Bel. 
Yes Sir, where the act's unjust and impure.  King. 
Why then are we a King, if not obeyed?  Bel. 
You are placed on earth, but as a Substitute  
To a Diviner being, as subjects are to you,  
And are so long a King to be obeyed,  
As you are just  King. 
Good belizarius, wherein do I digress?  
Have not I made thee great? given thee authority  
To scourge those misbelievers, those wild Locusts,  
That thus infect our Empire with their schisms?  
The World is full of belizarius deeds:  
Succeeding times will Canonize thy Acts,  
When they shall read what great ones thou hast done  
In honour of us, and our sacred gods,  
For which next unto Jove they gave a Laurel  
To belizarius; whose studious brain  
Framed all these wracks and tortures for these Christians.  
Hast thou not all our Treasure in thy power?  
Who but yourself commands as belizarius?  
Then whence my belizarius comes this change?  Bel. 
Poor King, I sorrow for thy weakened sense,  
Wishing thy eyesight clear, that Eaglelike,  
As I do now, thou might'st gaze on the Sun,  
The Sun of brightness, Sun of peace, of plenty:  
Made you me great? in that you made me miserable,  
thyself more wretched far, in that thy hand  
The Engine was to make me persecute  
Those Christian souls, whom I have sent to death;  
For which I ever, ever shall lament.  King. 
Ha? what's this, within there?  Bel. 
Nay, hear me Henrick, and when thou hast heard me out,  
With belizarius, think that thou art blessed,  
If that with me thou canst participate.  King. 
Thou art mad.  Bel. 
No; 'tis thou art mad,  
And with thy frenzy makes this Kingdom frantic.  
Forgive me thou great Power, in whom I trust,  
Forgive me World, and blot out all my deeds  
From these black Kalends: else, when I lie dead,  
My Name will ever lie in obloquy.  
Is it a Sin that can make great men good?  
Is profanation turned to sanctity?  
Vices to Virtues? if such disorder stand,  
Then belizarius Acts may be held just:  
Otherwise nothing.  King. 
Some Fury hath possessed my belizarius  
That thus he rails: Oh my dearest,  
Call on great jupiter.  Bel. 
Alas poor Idol,  
On him! on him that is not, unless made:  
Had I your jove, I'd toss him in the Air,  
Or sacrifice him to his fellow-gods,  
And see what he could do to save himself.  
You call him Thunderer, shaker of Olympus,  
The only and dear Father of all gods:  
When silly jove is shaken with every wind,  
A finger's touch can hurl him from his Throne:  
Is this a thing to be adored, or prayed too?  King. 
My love turns now to rage: Attendance there,  Enter all the Lords. 
And help to bind this mad man, that's possessed:  
By the powers that we adore, thou diest.  Bel. 
hear me thou ignorant King, you dull-brained Lords,  
Oh hear me for your own sakes, for your soul's sake,  
Had you as many gods as you have days,  
As once the Assyrians had, yet have ye nothing:  
Such service as they gave, such you may give,  
And have reward, as had the blind Molossians.  
A Toad one day they worship: one of them drunk  
A health with's god, and poisoned so himself:  
Therefore with me, look up, and as regenerate souls—  Dam. 
Can you suffer this?  
This his affront will sear up the devotion  
Of all your people: he that persecuted,  
Become a convertite!  Bel. 
'Tis joy above my joy: oh had you seen  
What these eyes saw, you would not then  
Dissuade me from it; nor will I leave that power  
By whom I find such infinite contentments.  Hen. 
Epidophorus, your ear: see't done.  Epi. 
It shall my Lord.  Hen. 
Then by the gods,  
And all the powers the Vandals do adore,  
Thou hast not been more terrible to the world,  
Than to thyself I now will make thee.  Bel. 
ay, dare thy worst; I have a Christians' armour  
To protect me.  
You cannot act so much as I can suffer.  Hen. 
I'll try your patience.  Enter Epido. two Christians and officers. Epi. 
'Tis done my Lord as you directed.  Hen. 
They are come:  
Make signs you'll yet deny your Christianity, They make signs.  
And kneel with us to sacred jupiter:  
No; make them then a Sacrifice to jupiter,  
For all the wrongs by belizarius done:  
Dispatch I say, to the fire with them.  Bel. 
Alas good men, Tongueless? you'll yet be heard;  
The sighs of your tuned souls are musical;  
And whilst I breathe, as now my tears I shed,  
My prayers I'll send up for you: 'twas I that mangled you.  
How soon the Body's Organ leaves the sound!  
The Life's next to't, a needle's point ends that,  
A small thing does it; now you have quiet rooms,  
No wrangling, all hushed: now make me a fellow  
In this most patient suffering.  Hen. 
Bear them unto the fire, and place him near,  
To fright him. Flourish.  Bel. 
On fellow Soldiers,  
Your fires will soon be quenched: and for your wrongs,  
You shall above, all speak with Angels tongues. Exeunt.  Enter Clown, Constable, and three watchmen. Clown. 
You that are borne Pagans both by father & mother,  
The true sons of Infidelity, sit down by me your Official:  
Or to come nearer to the efficacy of the word,  
Your undermost jailor, or staller;  
The word is Lordly and significant.  Omnes. 
Oh brave Master i'faith.  Clown. 
Therefore sit down,  
And as by virtue of our place, we have Authority given,  
So let us as Officers do, knaves of our function,  
As of others; let us I say, be unbounded in our Authority,  
Having the Laws, I mean the Keys, in our own hands.  Const. 
Friend, friend, you are two forward in your Authority,  
Your command is limited where I am in place:  
For though you are the lieutenant's man, know sit that I  
Am Master of the work, and Constable Royal  
Under the king's Majesty.  Omnes. 
Marry is he.  Const. 
If their testimony will not satisfy here my Title  
At this place, in this time, and upon this occasion,  
I am Prince over those Publicans, Lord over these Larons,  
Regent of these Rugs, Viceroy over these Vagabonds,  
King of these Caterpillars; and indeed, being a Constable,  
Directly Sovereign over these my Subjects.  2. Offic. 
If all these styles, so hard to climb over, belong  
To the Office of a Constable, what kin is he to the Devil?  Const. 
Why to the Devil my friend?  Clown. 
I'll tell you; because a Constable is King of Nights,  
And the other is Prince of Darkness.  Const. 
Dark as it is, by the twilight of my lantern,  
Methinks I see a company of Woodcocks.  2. Offic. 
How can you discern them? Enter Epidorus, Victoria & Bellina.  Clown. 
Oh excellent well  
By their bills: see, see, here comes the Lieutenant.  Epid. 
Well said my friends, you keep good watch I see.  Clown. 
Yes Sir, we Officers have breath as strong as Garlic  
No Christian by their good wills dare come near us.  Epid. 
'Tis well, for bear:  
Oh Madam. had you seen with what a vehemency  
He did blaspheme the Gods,  
Like to a man perched on some lofty Spire,  
Amazed which way to relieve himself,  
You would have stood as did the King, amazed.  Vict. 
God grant him liberty,  
And with that give us privacy:  
I doubt not, but our sweet conference  
Shall work much on him.  Epid. 
jove grant it: I'll leave the room. Exit Epid.  Clown. 
A Jailor seldom looks for a bribe,  
But he's prevented. Exeunt Officers.  Enter belizarius in his Nightgown, with Epidophorus. Epid. 
My Lord, your Lady,  
And her most beauteous daughter,  
Are come to visit you, and here attend.  Bel. 
My Wife and Daughter, oh welcome love;  
And blessing Crown thee, my beloved Bellina.  Vict. 
My Lord pray leave us.  Epid. 
Your will be your own Law. Exit Epidoph.  Vict. 
Why study you my Lord, why is your eye fixed  
On your Bellina, more than on me?  Bel. 
Good, excellent good:  
What pretty shows our fancies represents us:  
My fair Bellina shines like to an Angel,  
Has such a brightness in her Crystal eyes,  
That even the radiancy dulls my sight.  
See, my Victoria, looks she not sweetly?  Vict. 
she does my Lord; but not much better than she was wont.  Bel. 
Oh she but begins to shine as yet,  
But will I hope ere long be stellified:  
Alas, my Victoria, thou look'st nothing like her.  Vict. 
Not like her? why my Lord?  Bel. 
Mark, and I'll tell thee how:  
Thou art too much o'er grown with sin and shame,  
Hast prayed too much, offered too much devotion  
To him and those that can nor help, nor hurt,  
Which my Bellina has not:  
Her years in sin are not as thine are, old:  
Therefore methinks she's fairer far than thou.  Vict. 
I my Lord, guided by you, and by your precepts  
Have often called on jupiter.  Bel. 
ay, there's the point:  
My sins like pulleys still drew me downwards:  
'Twas I that taught thee first to Idolise,  
And unless that I can withdraw thy mind  
From following that, I did with tears entreat,  
I'm lost, for ever lost, lost in myself and thee:  
Oh my Bellina.  Bellina. 
Why Sir, shall we not call on jove that gives us food,  
By whom we see the heavens have all their Motions?  Bel. 
she's almost lost too, alas my Girl,  
There is a higher jove that rules 'bove him:  
Sit my Victoria, sit my fair Bellina,  
And with attention harken to my dream:  
methought one evening, sitting on a fragrant verge,  
Close by there ran a silver gliding stream;  
I passed the Rivulet, and came to a Garden,  
A Paradise, I should say, for less it could not be;  
Such sweetness the world contains not, as I saw;  
Indian, Aramaticks, nor Arabian Gums,  
Were nothing scented unto this sweet bower:  
I gazed about, and there methought I saw  
Conquerors and Captives, Kings and mean men,  
I saw no inequality in their places:  
Casting mine eye on the other side the Palace,  
Thousands I saw myself had sent to death;  
At which, I sighed, and sobbed, I grieved, and groaned,  
Ingirt with Angels, where those glorious Martyrs,  
Whom this ungentle hand untimely ended;  
And beckoned to me, as if heaven had said,  
Believe as they, and be thou one of them;  
At which my heart leapt, for there methought I saw,  
As I supposed, you two, like to the rest:  
With that I waked, and resolutely vowed  
To prosecute, what I in thought had seen.  Bellina. 
'Twas a sweet dream, good Sir make use of it.  Vict. 
And, with belizarius, am resolved  
To undergo the worst of all afflictions,  
Where such a glory bids us to perform.  Bell. 
Now blessings crown ye both,  
The first stout Martyr has his glorious death,  
Though stony-hard, yet speedy; when ours comes,  
I shall triumph in our affliction.  
This adds some comfort to my troubled soul,  
I that so many have deprived of breath,  
Shall win two souls to accompany me in death. Exeunt   

ACTUS TERTIUS.  Enter Clown and Huntsmen severally. 1. Hunt. 
Ho, rise sluggards: so, so, ho; so, ho.  2. Hunt. 
So, ho, ho, we come.  Clown. 
Morrow jolly Woodmen.  Omnes. 
Morrow, morrow.  Clow. 
Oh here's a Morning, like a grey eyed Wench,  
Able to entice a man to leap out of his bed,  
If he love Hunting: had he as many corns on his toes  
As there are Cuckolds in the City.  1. Hunt. 
And that's enough in conscience to keep men from going  
Were his Boots as wide as the black jacks,  
Or Bombards tossed by the king's Guard.  2. Hunt. 
Are the swift Horses ready?  Clow. 
Yes, and better fed than taught;  
For one of'em had like to have kicked  
My jiggumbobs as I came by him.  1. Hunt. 
Where are the Dogs?  Clow. 
All coupled as Thieves going to a session's,  
And are to be hanged if they be found faulty.  2. Hunt. 
What Dogs are they?  Clow. 
A pack of the bravest Spartan Dogs in the world,  
If they do but once open, and spend there  
Gabble, gabble, gabble, it will make the Forest echo  
As if a Ring of Bells were in it; admirably flewed by their ears,  
You would take 'em to be singing boys;  
And for Dewlaps, they are as big as vintner's bags,  
In which they strain hippocras.  Omnes. 
There boy.  Clow. 
And hunt so close and so round together,  
That you may cover 'em all with a sheet.  2. Hunt. 
If it be wide enough.  Clow. 
Why as wide as some four or five Acres that's all,  1. Hunt. 
And what's the game today?  Clow. 
The wild Boar.  1. Hunt. 
Which of'em, the greatest? I have not seen him.  Clow. 
Not seen him? he is as big as an Elephant.  2. Hunt. 
Now will he build a whole Castle full of lies.  Clow. 
Not seen him? I have.  Omnes. 
No, no; seen him; as big as an Elephant.  Clow. 
The back of him is as broad, let me see,  
As a pretty Lighter.  1. Hunt. 
A Lighter!  Clow. 
Yes: and what do you think the Brisells are worth?  2. Hunt. 
Nothing.  Clow. 
Nothing? one Shoemaker offered to find me and the Heir-male of my body, 22. years, but to have them for his own ends.  2. Hunt. 
He would put Sparabiles into the soles then?  Clow. 
Not a Bill, not a Sparrow;  
This Boars head is so huge, that a Vintner but drawing that picture, and hanging it up for a Sign, it fell down, and broke him,  1. Hunt. 
Oh horrible!  Clow. 
He has two stones so big: let me see, (a Pox) thy head is but a Cherry-stone to the least of'em.  2. Hunt. 
How long are his Tusks?  Clow. 
Each of them as crooked, and as long as a mower's sith.  1. Hunt. 
There's a Cutler.  Clown. 
And when he whets his Tusks, you would swear there were a sea in's belly, and that his chops were the shore, to which the Foam was beaten: if his Foam were frothy Yeast, 'twere worth ten groats a pail for Bakers.  1. Hunts. 
What will the King do with him if he kill him?  Clown. 
Bake him; and if they put him in one pastry, a new Oven must be made, with a mouth as wide as the gates of the City. Horn.  Omnes. 
There boy, there boy.  horns and Noise within: Enter Antony meeting Damianus. Ant. 
Cosmo had like been killed, the Boar recovering,  
A Spear full in the Flank from Cosmo's hand,  
Foaming with rage, he ran at him, unhorsed him;  
And had, but that he fell behind an Oak of admirable  
Greatness, torn out his bowels,  
His very Tusks striking into the tree.  
Made the old Champion shake. Enter Cosmo.  Dam. 
Where are the Dogs?  Cosmo. 
No matter for the Curs:  
I 'scaped well, but  
Cannot find the King.  Anton. 
When did you see him?  Cosmo. 
Not since the Boar tossed up  
Both horse and rider.  Enter Epidophorus, and all the Huntsmen in a hurry. Epid. 
A Litter for the King; the King is hurt.  Anton. 
How?  Epid. 
No man knows; some say stung by an Adder,  
As from his horse he fell; some cry by the Boar.  Anton. 
The Boar never came near him.  Dam. 
The king's Physicians.  Cosm. 
Run for the king's Physicians.  Epid. 
Conduct us to him.  Anton. 
A fatal hunting when a King doth fall:  
All earthly pleasures are thus washed in gall.  Eugenius discovered sitting loaden with many Irons, a Lamp burning by him; then enter Clown with a piece of brown bread, and a Carrot root. Eugen. 
Is this my diet?  Clown. 
Yes marry is it; though it be not Diet bread, 'tis bread, 'tis your dinner: and though this be not the root of all mischief, yet 'tis a carrot, and excellent good meat, if you had powdered Beef to it.  Eug. 
I am content with this.  Clown. 
If you be not I cannot help it; for I am threatened to be hanged if I set but a Tripe before you, or give you a bone to gnaw.  Eug. 
For me thou shalt not suffer.  Clown. 
I thank you, but were not you better be no good Christian, as I am, and so fill your belly, as to lie here and starve, and be hanged thus in Chains?  Eug. 
No, 'tis my triumph, all these Chains to me  
Are silken Ribbons; this course bread a banquet:  
This gloomy Dungeon is to me more pleasing  
Than the king's Palace; and could I win thy soul  
To shake off her black ignorance, thou, as I do,  
Wouldst feel thirst, hunger, stripes, and Irons, nothing,  
Nay, count death nothing; let me win thee to me.  Clown. 
Thank ye for that; win me from a Table full of good meat to leap at a crust; I am no Scholar, and you they say are a great one; and scholars must eat little, so shall you: what a fine thing is it for me to report abroad of you, that you are no great feeder, no Cormorant? what a quiet life is it when a woman's tongue lies still? and is't not as good when a man's teeth lies still.  Eug. 
Perform what thou art bidden:  
If thou art charged to starve me, I'll not  
Blame thee, but bless heaven.  Clown. 
If you were starved, what hurt were that to you?  Eug. 
Not any, no not any.  Clown. 
Here would be your praise when you should lie dead, they would say, he was a very good man, but alas had little or nothing in him.  Eug. 
I am a slave to any misery  
My judge's doom me too.  Clown. 
If you be a slave, there's more slaves in the world than you.  Eug. 
Yes, thousands of brave fellows, slaves to their vices,  
The Usurer to his gold, drunkards to Wine,  
Adulterers to their lust.  Clown. 
Right Sir, so in Trades, the Smith is a slave to the Ironmonger, the itchy silk-weaver to the Silkman, the Clothworker to the Draper, the Whore to the Bawd, the Bawd to the Constable, and the Constable to a bribe.  Eug. 
Is it the Kings will I should be thus chained?  Clown. 
Yes indeed Sir: I can tell you in some countries they are held no small fools that go in Chains.  Eug. 
I am heavy.  Clown. 
Heavy, how can you choose having so much Iron upon you.  Eugen. 
Death's brother and I would have a little talk,  
So thou wouldst leave us.  Clown. 
With all my heart, let death's sister talk with you too, and she will, but let not me see her, for I am charged to let nobody come into you: if you want any water, give me your Chamber pot I'll fill it. Exit.  Eugen. 
No, I want none, I thank thee:  
Oh sweet affliction, thou blessed book being written  
By Divine fingers: you Chains that bind my body,  
To free my soul: you Wheels that wind me up  
To an eternity of happiness, muster my holy thoughts, and as I  
Write, Organ of heavenly Music to mine ears,  
Haven to my shipwreck, balm to my wounds,  
Sunbeams which on me comfortably shine,  
When Clouds of death are covering me; so gold,  
As I by thee, by fire is purified; so showers  
Quicken the Spring; so rough Seas  
Bring Mariners home, giving them gains and ease:  
Imprisonment, gyves, famine, buffetings,  
The Gibbet and the Rack, Flint stones the Cushions  
On which I kneel; a heap of Thorns and Briers  
The Pillow to my head, a nasty prison,  
Able to kill mankind even with the smell:  
All these to me are welcome, you are deaths servants,  
When comes your Master to me? now I am armed for him:  
Strengthen me that Divinity that enlightens  
The darkness of my soul; strengthen this hand  
That it may write my challenge to the world,  
Whom I defy, that I may on this paper  
The picture draw of my confession:  
Here do I fix my Standard; here bid Battle  
To Paganism and infidelity: Music; Enter Angel.  
Muster my holy thoughts, and as I write,  
In this brave quarrel teach me how to fight. As he is writing an Angel comes & stands before him: soft music; he astonished & dazzled.  
This is no common Alms to prisoners.  
I never heard such sweetness— O mine eyes,  
I that am shut from light, have all the light  
Which the world sees by; here some heavenly  
Fire is thrown about the room,  
And burns so clearly, mine eyeballs  
Drop out blasted at the sight.  He falls flat on the earth, and whilst a Song is heard, the Angel writes, and vanishes as it ends. 

1. Song.  
What are earthly honours,  
But sins glorious banners?  
Let not golden gifts delight thee,  
Let not death nor torments fright thee  
From thy place thy Captain gives thee;  
When thou faintest he relieves thee.  
Hark how the Lark  
Is to the Morning singing,  
Hark how the Bells are ringing,  
It is for joy that thou to Heaven art flying:  
This is not life, true life is got by dying.   Eug. 
The light and sound are vanished, but my fear  
Sticks still upon my forehead: what's written here?  Reads. 
Go, and the bold Physician play,  
But touch the King, and drive away  
The pain he feels: but first assay  
To free the Christians; if the King pay  
Thy service ill, expect a day  
When for reward thou shalt not stay.  Eug. 
All writ in golden Letters, and cut so even,  
As if some hand had hither reached from Heaven  
To print this Paper.  Enter Epidophorus. Epid. 
Come, you must to the King.  Eug. 
I am so laden with Irons,  
I scarce can go.  Epid. 
Wire-whips shall drive you.  
The King is counselled for his health, to bathe him  
In the warm blood of Christians, and you I think,  
Must give him ease.  Eug. 
Willingly; my fetters  
Hang now methinks like feathers at my heels;  
On, any whither I can run sir.  Epid. 
Can you? Not very far I fear.  Eug. 
No winds my Faith shake, nor rock split in sunder;  
The poor ship's tossed here, my strong Anchor's yonder. Exeunt.  Enter belizarius and Hubert. Hub. 
My Lord.  Bel. 
Ha?  Hub. 
Afraid in a close room, where no foe comes,  
Unless it be a weasel or a Rat,  
And those besiege your Larder, or your Pantry:  
Whom the armed Foe never frighted in the field.  Bel. 
'Tis true my Lord, there danger was a safety; here  
To be secure, I think most dangerous.  
Or what could famine, wounds, or all th'extremes  
That still attend a soldier's actions,  
Could not destroy one syllable from a king's breath,  
Can thus, thus easily win.  Hub. 
Oh, 'tis their long observed policy,  
To turn away these roaring boys,  
When they intend to rock licentious thoughts  
In a soft room, where every long Cushion is  
Embroidered with old Histories of peace,  
And all the Hangings of War thrust into the Wardrobe,  
Till they grow musty or moth-eaten.  Bel. 
One of those rusty Monuments am I.  Hub. 
A little oil of favour will scour thee again,  
And make thee shine as bright as in that day  
We won the famous battle 'gainst the Christians.  Bel. 
Never Hubert, never. Enter Bellina, and kneels weeping.  
What news now Girl,  
Thy heart so great it cannot tell me?  Hub. 
'sfoot why shouldst thou be troubled,  
That art thus visited?  
Let the King put me into any room,  
The closer, the better, and turn but such a Keeper to me,  
And if ever I strive to run away, though the doors be open,  
May the virgin's curse destroy me,  
And let me lamentably and most unmanly  
die of the green-sickness.  Bel. 
My blessing bring thee patience gentle Girl;  
It is the best thy wronged Father can  
Invoke for thee: 'tis my Bellina, Hubert,  
Know her honoured Sir, and pity her.  Hub. 
How sweetly she becomes the face of woe!  
she teacheth misery to court her beauty,  
And to affliction lends a lovely look: happy folks  
Would sell their blessings for her griefs  
But to be sure to meet them thus.  Bellina. 
My honoured Father, your grieved Daughter thus  
Thrice every day to Heaven lifts her poor hand,  
And pays her vows to the incensed Powers  
For your release and happy patience,  
And will grow old in vows unto those Powers,  
Till they fall on me loaden with my wishes.  Belliz. 
Thou art the comfort of my Treasure Girl;  
we'll live together if it please the King,  
And tell sad Stories of thy wretched Mother:  
Give equal sighs to one another's grief,  
And by discourse of happiness to come,  
Trample upon our present miseries.  Hub. 
There is a violent fire runs round about me,  
Which my sighs blow to a consuming flame.  
To be her Martyr is a happiness,  
The sainted souls would change their merit for it.  
Methinks grief dwells about her purest eyes,  
As if it begged a pardon for those tears  
Exhausted hence, and only due to love:  
Her Veil hangs like a Cloud over her face,  
Through which her beauty, like a glimmering Star,  
Gives a transparent lustre to the night,  
As if no sorrow could Eclipse her light.  
Her lips, as they discourse, methinks look pale,  
For fear they should not kiss again; but met,  
They blush for joy as happy Lovers do,  
After A long divorce when they encounter.  Belliz. 
Noble Lord, if you dare lose so much precious time,  
As to be companion to my misery but one poor hour,  
And not esteem yourself too prodigal  
For that expense, this wretched Maid my Child,  
Shall wait upon you with her sorrows stories,  
Vouchsafe but you to hear it.  Hub. 
Yes, with full ear.  Belliz. 
To your best thoughts I leave you. Exit Belliz.  
I will but read, and answer this my Letter.  Bellina. 
Why do you seem to lose your eyes on me?  
Here's nothing but a pile of wretchedness,  
A branch that every way is shaken at root,  
And would (I think) even fall before you now,  
But that Divinity, which props it up,  
Inspires it full of comfort, since the Cause  
My Father suffers for, gives a full glory  
To his base fetters of Captivity:  
And I beseech you Sir, if there but dwell  
So much of virtue in you, as your looks  
Seem to express, possess your honoured thoughts,  
Bestow your pity on us, not your scorn,  
And wish for goodness sake, and your soul's weal,  
You were a sharer in these sufferings,  
So the same Cause exposed your fortunes to't.  Hub. 
Oh happy woman, know I suffer more,  
And for a cause as just.  Bellina. 
Be proud then of that triumph; but I am yet  
A stranger to the Character of what  
You say you suffer for:  
Is it for Conscience?  Hub. 
For love divine perfection.  Bellina. 
If of Heavens love, how rich is your reward!  Hub. 
Of Heavens best blessing, your most perfect self.  Bellina. 
Alas sir, here perfection keeps no Court,  
Love dresses here no wanton amorous bowers,  
Sorrow has made perpetual winter here,  
And all my thoughts are Icy, past the reach  
Of what Loves fires can thaw.  Hub. 
Oh do but take away a part of that  
My breast is full of, of that holy fire,  
The Queen of love's fair Altar holds not purer,  
Nor more effectual, and sweet: if then  
You melt not into passion for my wounds,  
Effuse your Virgin vows to chain mine ears,  
Weep on my neck, and with your fervent sighs  
Infuse a soul of comfort into me:  
I'll break the Altar of the foolish god,  
Proclaim them guilty of Idolatry,  
That sacrifice to Cytherea's son.  Bellina. 
Did not my present fortunes and my vows  
Registered in the Records of Heaven,  
Tie me too strictly from such thoughts as these,  
I fear me I should softly yield to what  
My yet condition has been stranger to:  
To love my Lord, is to be miserable.  Hub. 
Oh to thy sweetness Envy would prove kind,  
Tormentor humble, no pale Murderer;  
And the Page of death a smiling Courtier.  
Venus must then, to give thee noble welcome,  
Perfume her Temple with the breath of Nuns,  
Not Vesta's, but her own, with Roses strew  
The paths that bring thee to her blessed shrine:  
clothe all her Altars in her richest Robes,  
And hang her walls with stories of such loves  
Have raised her Triumphs, and 'bove all at last  
Record this day, the happy day, in which  
Bellina proved to love a Convertite:  
Be merciful, and save me.  Bellina. 
You are defiled with Seas of Christians blood,  
An enemy to Heaven, and which is good,  
And cannot be a loving friend to me.  Hub. 
If I have sinned, forgive me you just powers,  
My ignorance, not cruelty has done't:  
And here I vow myself to be hereafter  
whate'er Bellina shall instruct me in.  
For she was never made but to possess  
The highest Mansion 'mongst your dignities,  
Nor can Heaven let her err.  Bellina. 
On that condition thus I spread my arms,  
Whose chaste embraces ne'er touched man before,  
And will to Hubert all the favour show  
His virtuous love can covet;  
I will be ever his: go thou to War,  
These hands shall arm thee, and I'll watch thy Tent,  
Till from the battle thou bring'st victory.  
In peace I'll sit by thee, and read, or sing  
stanza's of chaste love, of love purified  
From desires drossy blackness: nay, when our clouds  
Of ignorance are quite vanished, and that a holy  
Religious knot between us may be tied,  
Bellina here vows to be Hubert's Bride,  
Else do I swear perpetual chastity.  Hub. 
Thy vows I seal, be thou my ghostly Tutor,  
And all my actions leveled to thy thoughts,  
I am thy Creature.  Bellina. 
Let Heaven too but now propitious prove,  
And for thy soul thou hast won a happy love.  
Come, shall we to my Father? Exeunt.  Soft Music. Enter the King on his bed, two Physicians, Anthony, Damianus, and Cosmo. King. 
Are you Physicians?  
Are you those men that proudly call yourselves  
The helps of Nature?  Ant. 
Oh my good Lord, have patience.  King. 
What should I do? lie like a patient Ass,  
Feel myself tortured by this diffused poison,  
But tortured more by these unsavoury drugs.  Ant. 
Come one of you yourselves, and speak to him.  1. Phys 
How fares your Highness?  King. 
Never worse: what's he?  Dami. 
One of your highness=doctors.  King. 
Come sit near me,  
Feel my pulse once again, and tell me Doctor,  
Tell me in terms that I may understand:  
I do not love your gibberish; tell me honestly  
Where the Cause lies, and give a Remedy,  
And that with speed; or in despite of Art  
Of Nature, you, and all your heavenly motions,  
I'll recollect so much of life into me,  
As shall give space to see you tortured.  
somebody told me that a Bath of man's blood  
Would restore me; Christians shall pay for't:  
Fetch the Bishop hither, he shall begin.  Cosm. 
he's gone for.  King. 
What's my disease?  1. Phys. 
My Lord, you are poisoned.  King. 
I told thee so myself, and told thee how:  
But what's the reason that I have no help?  
The Coffers of my Treasury are full,  
Or if they were not, tributary Christians'  
Bring in sufficient store to pay your fees,  
If that you gape at.  2. Phys. 
willit please your Highness then to take this Cordial?  
Gold never truly did you good till now.  King. 
'Tis gone.  2. Phys. 
My Lord, it was the perfectest tincture  
Of Gold that ever any Art produced:  
With it was mixed a true rare Quintessence,  
Extracted out of Oriental Bezar,  
And with it was dissolved the Magisterial,  
Made of the Horn Armenia so much boasts of:  
Which though dull Death had usurped Nature's right,  
Is able to create new life again.  King. 
Why does it good on men, and not on Kings?  
We have the selfsame passages for Nature  
With mortal men, our pulses beat like theirs:  
We are subject unto passions as they are.  
I find it now, but to my grief I find,  
Life stands not with us on such ticklish points.  
What is't because we are Kings, Life takes it leave  
With greater state? No, no; the envious gods  
Malign our happiness: Oh that my breath had power  
With my last words to blast their Deities.  1. Phys. 
The Cordial that you took requires rest:  
For healths sake good my Lord, repose yourself.  King. 
Yes, any thing for health; draw round the Curtains:  Dam. 
we'll watch by him, whilst you two do consult.  1. Phys. 
What guess you by that Urine?  2. Phys. 
Surely death.  1. Phys. 
Death certain, without contradiction:  
For though the urine be a whore, and lies,  
Yet where I find her in all parts agree  
With other Symptoms of apparent death,  
I'll give her faith: Pray Sir, do but mark  
These black Hypostases, it plainly shows  
Mortification generally through the spirits,  
And you may find the Pulse to show as much  
By his uncertainty of time and strength.  2. Phys. 
We find the spirits often sophisticated  
By many accidents, but yet not mortified;  
A sudden fear will do it.  1. Phys. 
Very right;  
But there's no malicious humour mixed  
As in the King sir, you must understand:  
A Scorpion stung him; now a Scorpion is  
A small compacted creature, in whom Earth  
Hath the predominance, but mixed with fire,  
So that in him Saturn and Mars do meet.  
This little Creature hath his several humours,  
And these their excrements, these met together,  
Inflamed by anger, made a deadly poison:  
And by how much the creatures body's less,  
By so much is the force of venom more:  
As Lightning through a window's Casement  
Hurts more than that which enters at the door.  2. Phys. 
But for the way to cure it.  1. Phys. 
Know none:  
Yet Ancient Writers have prescribed us many,  
As Theophrastus holds most excellent.  
diaphoretic Medicines to expel  
Ill vapours from the noble parts by sweat:  
But Avices and also rabbi Roses  
Do think it better by provoking urine,  
Since by the Urine blood may well be purged,  
And spirits from the blood have nutriment;  
But for my part, I ever held opinion,  
In such a case the ventosies are best.  2 Phys. 
They are indeed, and they do far exceed.  1 Phys. 
All the great curious Cataplasms,  
Or the live tail of a deplumed Hen,  
Or your hot Pigeons, or your quartered Whelps,  
For they by a mere forced attractive power,  
Retain that safely which by force was drawn;  
Whereas the other things I named before,  
Do lose their virtue, as they lose their heat.  2 Phys. 
The ventosies shall be our next intentions.  Anton. 
Pray Gentlemen attend his Highness.  King. 
Your next intentions be to drown yourselves,  
Dogleeches all; I see I am not mortal,  
For I with patience have thus long endured,  
Beyond the strength of all mortality;  
But now the thrice heat furnace of my bosom  
Disdaineth bounds: do not I scorch you all?  
Go, go, you are all but prating Mountebanks,  
Quacksalvers, and impostors; get you all from me.  2 Phys. 
These Ventosies my Lord will give you ease.  King. 
A vengeance on thy Ventosies and thee.  Enter Eugenius. Anton. 
The Bishop Sir is come.  King. 
Christian thy blood  
Must give me ease and help.  Eugen. 
Drink then thy fill;  
None of the Fathers that begot sweet Physic,  
That Divine Lady, comforter to man,  
Invented such a medicine as man's blood,  
A drink so precious should not be so spilled;  
Take mine, and heaven pardon you the guilt.  King. 
A Butcher; see his throat cut.  Eugen. 
I am so far from shrinking, that mine own hands  
Sall bare my throat; and am so far from wishing  
Ill to you, that mangle me, that before  
My blood shall wash these Rushes,  
King, I will cure thee.  1. Phys. 
You cure him.  King. 
Speak on fellow.  Eug. 
If I do not  
Restore your limbs to soundness, drive the poison  
From the infected part, study your tortures,  
To tear me piecemeal, yet be kept alive.  King. 
Oh reverent man come near me, work this wonder,  
Ask gold, honours, any, any thing,  
The sublunary treasures of this world  
Can yield, and they are thine.  Eug. 
I will do nothing without a recompense.  King. 
A royal one.  Omnes. 
Name what you would desire.  King. 
Stand by, you trouble him,  
A recompense can my Crown buy thee, take it;  
Reach him my Crown, and plant it on his head.  Eug. 
No, here's my bargain.  King. 
Quickly, oh speak quickly—  
Off with the goodman's Irons.  Eug. 
Free all those Christians, which are now thy slaves,  
In all thy Citadels, Castles, Fortresses,  
Those in Bellanna, and Mersaganna,  
Those in Alempha, and in Hazaneth,  
Those in thy Galleys, those in thy jails and Dungeons.  King. 
Those, anywhere; my Signet, take my Signet,  
And free all on your lives, free all the Christians.  
What dost thou else desire?  Eug. 
This: that thyself trample upon thy Pagan gods.  Omnes. 
Sir.  King. 
Away.  Eug. 
Wash your soul white by wading in the stream  
Of Christian gore.  King. 
I will turn Christian.  Dam. 
Better wolves worry this accursed—  King. 
Better  
Have Bandogs worry all of you, than I  
To languish in a torment, that feeds on me,  
As if the Furies bit me: I'll turn Christian,  
And if I do not, let the Thunder pay  
My breach of promise; cure me, good old man,  
And I will call thee father; thou shalt have  
A King come kneeling to thee every Morning,  
To take a blessing from thee, and to hear thee  
Salute him as a Son:  
When, when is this wonder?  Eug. 
Now; you are well Sir?  King. 
Ha!  Eug. 
Has your pain left you?  King. 
Yes, see else Damianus, Antony,  
Cosmo, I am well.  Omnes 
He does it by enchantment.  1. Phys. 
By mere Witchcraft.  Eug. 
Thy payment for my cure?  King. 
What?  Eug. 
To turn Christian,  
And set all Christian slaves at liberty.  King. 
I'll hang and torture all;  
Call back the Messenger sent with our Signet;  
For thyself, thou fool, should I allow  
Thee life, thou wouldst be poisoned by our  
College of Physicians; let him not touch me,  
Nor ever more come near me; and to be sure  
Thy sorceries shall not strike me, stone him to death.  They bind him to a stake, and fetch stows in Baskets. Omnes. 
When?  King. 
Now, here presently.  Eugen. 
Ingrateful man.  King. 
Dispatch, his voice is horrid in our ears,  
Kill him, hurl all, and in him kill my fears.  Eug. 
I would thy fears were ended.  King. 
Why thus delay you?  Dam. 
The stones are soft as sponges.  Anton. 
Not any stone here  
Can raze his skin.  Dam. 
See Sir.  Cosm. 
More Conjuring?  Eug. 
Thanks heavenly preservation.  King. 
Mocked by a hellhound?  Omnes. 
This must not be endured Sir.  King. 
Unbind the wretch;  
Nail him to the earth with Irons: Cannot death strike him?  
New studied tortures shall.  Eug. 
New tortures bring,  
They all to me are but a banqueting. Exit.  Anton. 
But are you well indeed Sir?  King. 
Passing well,  
Though my Physician fetched the cure from hell:  
All's one, I am glad I have it. Exeunt.   

ACTUS QUARTUS.  Enter Antony, Cosmo, Hubert, and Damianus. Anton. 
You noble Hubert, are the men chosen out  
From all our Vandal Leaders to be chief  
o'er a new Army, which the King will raise,  
To root out from our land these Christians,  
That overrun us?  Cosm, 
'Tis a glory Hubert,  
Will raise your fame, and make you like our gods.  
To please whom, you must do this.  Dam. 
And in doing,  
Be active as the fire, and merciless  
As is the boundless Ocean, when it swallows  
Whole Towns, and of them leaves no Monument.  Hub. 
When shall mine eyes be happy in the sight  
Of this brave Pageantry?  Cos. 
The King says, instantly.  Hub. 
And must I be the General?  Omnes. 
Only you.  Hub. 
I shall not then at my returning home  
Have sharers in my great acts: to the Volume  
My Sword in bloody Letters shall text down,  
No Name must stand but mine, no leaf turned o'er  
But Hubert's works are read, and none but mine.  
belizarius shall not on his Clouds of fire  
Fly flaming round about the staring World,  
Whilst I creep on the earth. Flatter me not,  
Am I to go indeed?  Ant. 
The King so swears.  Hub. 
A king's word is a Statute graven in Brass,  
And if he breaks that Law, I will in Thunder  
Rouse his cold spirit: I long to ride in Armour,  
And looking round about me, to see nothing  
But Seas and shores, the Seas of Christians blood,  
The shores tough Soldiers: Here a wing flies out  
Soaring at Victory, here the main Battalia  
Comes up with as much horror, and hotter terror,  
As if a thick-grown Forest by enchantment  
Were made to move, and all the Trees should meet  
pell-mell, and rive their beaten bulks in sunder,  
As petty Towers do, being flung down by Thunder.  
Pray thank the King, and tell him I am ready  
To cry a Charge; tell him I shall not sleep,  
Till that which wakens Cowards, trembling with fear,  
Startles me, and sends brave Music to mine ear,  
And that's the Drum and Trumpet.  Ant. 
This shall be told him.  Dam. 
And all the Goths and Vandalls shall strike Heaven  
With repercussive Echoes of your name,  
Crying a Hubert.  Hub. 
Deaf me with that sound,  
A Soldier though he falls in the Field, lives crowned.  Cos. 
we'll to the King, and tell him this. Exeunt. Enter Bellina.  Hub. 
Do: Oh my Bellina,  
If ever, make me happy now; now tie  
Strong charms about my full-plumed Burgonet  
To bring me safe home: I must to the Wars.  Bel. 
What wars? we have no wars but in ourselves:  
We fighting with our sins, our sins with us,  
Yet they still get the victory: who are in Arms  
That you must to the Field?  Hub. 
The Kings Royal thoughts  
Are in a mutiny amongst themselves,  
And nothing can allay them but a slaughter,  
A general massacre of all the Christians  
That breath in his Dominion: I am the Engine  
To work this glorious wonder.  Bel. 
forefend it Heaven:  
Last time you sat by me within my bower,  
I told you of a Palace walled with gold.  Hub. 
I do remember it.  Bel. 
The floor of sparkling Diamonds, and the roof  
Studded with Stars shining as bright as fire.  Hub. 
True.  Bel. 
And I told you one day I would show you  
A path should bring you thither.  Hub. 
You did indeed.  Bel. 
And will you now neglect a lease of this,  
To lie in a cold field, a field of murder?  
Say thou shouldst kill ten thousand Christians,  
They go but as Ambassadors to Heaven  
To tell thy cruelties, and on you Battlements  
They all will stand on rows, laughing to see  
Thee fall into a pit as bottomless,  
As the Heavens are in extension infinite,  Hub. 
More, prithee more; I had forgot this Music.  Bel. 
Say thou shouldst win the day, yet art thou lost,  
For ever lost; an everlasting slave,  
Though thou com'st home a laureled Conqueror.  
You courted me to love you, now I woo thee  
To love thyself, to love a thing within thee  
More curious than the frame of all this world,  
More lasting than this Engine o'er our heads,  
Whose wheels have moved so many thousand years:  
This thing is thy soul,  
For which I woo thee.  Hub. 
Thou-woest, I yield, and in that yielding love thee,  
And for that love I'll be the Christians guide:  
I am their Captain, come both Goth and Vandal,  
Nay, come the King, I am the Christians' General.  Bel. 
Not yet, till your Commission be fair drawn,  
Not yet, till on your brow you bear the Print  
Of a rich golden seal.  Hub. 
Get me that seal then.  Bel. 
There is an Aqua fortis, (an eating water)  
Must first wash off thine infidelity,  
And then thouart armed.  Hub. 
O let me then be armed.  Bel. 
Thou shalt:  
But on thy knees thou gently first shalt swear  
To put no Armour on but what I bear.  Hub. 
By this chaste clasping of our hands I swear—  Bel. 
We then thus hand in hand will fight a battle  
Worth all the pitch-fields, all the bloody banquets,  
The slaughter and the massacre of Christians,  
Of whom such heaps so quickly never fell,  
Brave on set be thy end not terrible.  Hub. 
This kindled fire burn in us, till as death's slaves  
Our bodies pay their tributes to their graves. Exeunt.  Enter Clown and two Pagans Clow. 
Come fellow Pagans, death means to fare well today, for he is like to have roast-meat to his supper, two principal dishes; many a Knight keeps a worse Table. First, a brave General Carbonadoed, than a fat Bishop broiled, whose Rochet comes in fried for the second course, according to the old saying, A plump greasy Prelate fries a faggot daintily.  1. Pag. 
Oh the General belizarius for my money: he has a fiery spirit too, he will roast soakingly within and without.  Clow. 
Methinks Christians make the bravest Bonfires of any people in the Universe; as a jew burns pretty-well, but if you mark him, he burns upward: the fire takes him by the Nose first.  2. Pag. 
I know some Vintners then are jews.  Clow. 
Now as your jew burns upward, your Frenchman burns downward like a Candle, and commonly goes out with a stink like a snuff, and what socket soever it light in, it must be well cleansed and picked before it can be used again: But belizarius, the brave General, will flame high and clear like a Beacon, but your Puritan Eugenius will burn blue, blue, like a white-bread sop in Aqua vitae. Fellow Pagans, I pray let us agree among ourselves about the sharing of those two.  2. Pag. 
ay, 'tis fit.  Clow. 
You know I am worshipful by my place, the underkeeper may write Squire if he list, at the bottom of the paper: I do cry first the general's great Scarf to make me a short Summer-cloak, and the bishop's wide sleeves to make me a holiday's shirt.  1. Pag. 
Having a double voice we cannot abridge you of a double share.  Clow. 
You that so well know what belongs to reverence, the Breeches by yours, whether Bishops or Generals: but with this Proviso, because we will all share of both parties, as I have led the way, I claiming the Generals and the bishop's sleeves, so he that chooses the general's Doublet, shall wear the general's Breeches.  Pag. 
A match.  Clow. 
Nay, 'twill be far from a match that's certain, but it will make us to be taken for men of note, what company soever we come in:  

The Soldier and the Scholar peeked up so,  
Will make tam Marti, quam Mercurio.   Exeunt. Enter the King, Antony, Damianus, and Cosmo: Victoria meets the King. Vict. 
As you are Vicegerent to that Majesty,  
By whom Kings reign on earth, as you would wish  
Your heirs should sit upon your Throne, your name  
Be mentioned in the Chronicle of glory,  
Great King vouchsafe me hearing.  King. 
Speak.  Vict. 
My husband;  
The much, too much wronged belizarius,  
Hath not deserved the measure of such misery  
Which is thrown on him; call, oh call to mind  
His service, how often he hath fought,  
And toiled in wars to give his Country peace:  
He has not been a flatterer of the Time,  
Nor Courted great ones for their glorious Vices;  
He hath not soothed blind dotage in the World,  
Nor capered on the commonwealth's dishonour;  
He has not peeled the rich, nor flayed the poor,  
Nor from the heartstrings of the Commons drawn  
Profit to his own Coffers; he never bribed  
The white intents of mercy, never sold  
Justice for money, to set up his own,  
And utterly undo whole families:  
Yet some such men there are that have done thus,  
The more's the pity.  King. 
To the point.  Vict. 
Oh Sir, belizarius has his wounds emptied of blood,  
Both for his Prince and Country; to repeat  
Particulars, were to do injury  
To your yet mindful gratitude— His Life,  
His liberty, 'tis that I plead for— that:  
And since your enemies and his could never  
Captive the one, and triumph in the other,  
Let not his friends,  
His King commend a cruelty,  
Strange to be talked of, cursed to be acted;  
My Husband, oh my husband belizarius,  
For him I beg.  King. 
Lady rise up, we will be gracious  
To thy suit: cause belizarius  
And the Bishop be brought hither instantly. Exit for him.  Vict. 
Now all the blessings due to a good King  
Crown you with lasting honours.  King. 
If thou canst  
Persuade thy husband to recant his errors,  
He shall not only live, but in our favours  
Be chief; wilt undertake it?  Vict. 
Undertake it Sir,  
On these conditions, you shall yourself  
Be witness with what instance I will urge him  
To pity his own self, recant his errors.  Anton. 
So doing he will purchase many friends.  Dam. 
Life, love, and liberty.  Vict. 
But tell me, pray Sir,  
What are those errors which he must recant?  King. 
His hatred to those powers to which we bow,  
On whom we all depend; he has kneeled to them,  
Let him his base Apostasy recant,  
Recant his being a Christian, and recant  
The love he bears to Christians.  Bel. 
If he deny to do all this,  
Or any point of this,  
Is there no mercy for him?  King. 
Couldst thou shed  
A Sea of tears, to drown my resolution,  
He dies; could the fond man lay at my foot  
The Kingdoms of the earth, he dies; he dies  
Were he my son, my father, bid him recant,  
Else all the Torments cruelty can invent  
shall fall on him.  Vict. 
No spark of pity?  King. 
None.  Vict. 
Well then, but mark what pains I'll take to win him:  
To win him home; I'll set him in a way,  
The Clouds shall clap to find what went astray.  Anton. 
Do this, and we are all his.  King. 
Do this, I swear to jewel him in my bosom.  
See where he comes.  Enter Epidophorus, with belizarius, and Eugenius. Bel. 
And whither now, is Tyranny grown ripe,  
To blow us to our graves yet?  King. 
belizarius,  
Thy wife has sued for mercy, and has found it:  
Speak Lady tell him how.  Bel. 
Victoria too:  
Oh then I fear the striving to express  
The virtue of a good wife, hath begot  
An utter ruin of all goodness in thee:  
What wouldst thou say, poor woman?  Vict. 
My Lord the King,  
Nothing can alter your incensed rage,  
But recantation.  King. 
Nothing.  Vict. 
Recantation, sweet  
Music; belizarius thou mayst live;  
The King is full of royal bounty— like  
The ambition of mortality— examine  
What recantation is— a toy.  King. 
None hinder her: now ply him.  Vict. 
To lose the portage in these sacred pleasures,  
That knows no end; to lose the fellowship  
Of Angels, lose the harmony of blessings,  
Which crown all Martyrs with eternity:  
Wilt thou not recant?  King. 
I understand her not.  Omnes. 
Nor I.  Vict. 
Thy life hath hitherto been, my dear husband,  
But a disease to thee; thou hast indeed,  
Moved on the earth, like other creeping worms,  
Who take delight in worldly surfeits, heat  
Their blood with lusts, their limbs with proud attires;  
Fed on their change of sins; that do not use  
Their pleasure, but enjoy them; enjoy them fully,  
In streams that are most sensual, and persever  
To live so till they die, and to die never.  King. 
What means all this?  Anthon. 
Art in thy right wit's woman?  Vict. 
Such beasts are those about thee; take then courage,  
If ever in thy youth thy soul hath set  
By the World's tempting fires, as these men do,  
Recant that error.  King. 
Ha?  Vict. 
Hast thou in battle ta'en a pride in blood?  
Recant that error: hast thou constant stood  
In a bad cause? clap a new armour on,  
And sight now in a good: oh lose not heaven  
For a few minutes in a tyrant's eye;  
Be valiant, and meet death; if thou now losest  
Thy portion laid up for thee yonder, yonder,  
For breath or honours here, oh thou dost sell  
Thy soul for nothing:  
Recant all this,  
And then be raised up to a Throne of bliss.  Anton. 
We are abused, stop her mouth.  Bel. 
Victoria,  
Thou nobly dost confirm me, haste new armed  
My resolution, excellent Victoria.  Eugen. 
Oh happy daughter, thou in this dost bring,  
That Requiem to our souls, which Angels sing.  Dam. 
Can you endure this wrong Sir?  Cosmo. 
Be outbraved by a seducing Strumpet?  King. 
Bind her fast;  
we'll try what recantation you can make,  
Hag, in the presence of of your brave holy Champion,  
And thy Husband,  
One of my Camel drivers shall take from thee  
The glory of thy honesty and honour:  
Call in the Peasant.  Vict. 
belizarius,  
Eugenius, is there no guard above us,  
That will protect me from a rape? 'tis worse  
Than worlds of tortures.  Eugen. 
Fear not, Victoria, be  
Thou a chaste one in thy mind, thy body  
May, like a Temple of well tempered steel,  
Be battered, not demolished.  Bel. 
Tyrant be merciful,  
And if thou hast no other virtue in thee,  
Deserving memory to succeeding ages,  
Yet only thy not suffering such an outrage,  
Shall add praise to thy name.  King. 
Where is the Groom?  Eugen. 
Oh sure the Sun will darken,  
And not behold a deed so soul and monstrous.  Enter Epiphodorus with a slave. Epid. 
Here is a Camel driver.  Omnes. 
Stand forth sirrah.  Epid. 
Be bold, and shrink not, this is she.  1 Cam. 
And I am he:  
Is't the king's pleasure I should mouse her, and before all these people?  King. 
No, 'tis considered better; unbind the fury.  
And drag her to some corner, 'tis our pleasure,  
Fall to thy business freely.  1 Cam. 
Not too freely neither; I fare hard, and drink water, so do the Indians; yet who fuller of Bastards? so do the Turks, yet who gets greater Loggerheads? come wench, I'll teach thee how to cut up wild fowl.  Vict. 
Guard me you heavens.  Bel. 
Be mine eyes lost for ever?  1 Cam. 
Is that her husband?  Epid. 
Yes.  1 Cam. 
No matter; some husbands are so base, they keep the door whilst they are Cuckolded; but this is after a more manlier way, for he stands bound to see it done.  King. 
Haile her away.  1 Cam. 
Come puss: hale her away, which way? you way? my Camels backs cannot climb it.  Anton. 
The fellow is struck mad.  1 Cam. 
That way, it looks into a millpond; whirr, how the Wheels go, and the Devil grinds? no this way.  King. 
Keep the slave back.  1 Cam. 
Back, keep me back; there sits my wife combing her hair, which curls like a witch's fetlocks, all the Nits in't are Spiders, and all the Dandruff the sand of a scrivener's Sandbox: Stand away, my whore shall not be lousy, let me come anoint her with Stavesacre.  King. 
Defend me, lop his hands off.  Omnes. 
Hew him in pieces.  King. 
What has he done?  Anton. 
Sir, beat out his own brains.  Vict. 
You for his soul must answer.  King. 
Fetch another.  Eugen. 
Tempt not the wrath supernal to fall down,  
And crush thee in thy Throne.  Enter 2 Camel drivers. King. 
Peace sorcerous slave:  
Sirrah, take hence this Witch and ravish her.  2. Cammel. 
A Witch, Witches are the devil's sweethearts.  King. 
Do it, be thou Master of much gold.  2 Cam. 
Shall I have gold to do it? in some Countries I hear whole Lordships are spent upon a fleshly device, yet the buyer in the end had nothing but French Repentance, and the curse of Chirurgery for his money; let me finger my Gold; I'll venture on, but not give her a penny; woman's flesh was never cheaper, a man may eat it without bread, all Trades fall, so do they.  Epid. 
Look you Sir, there's your gold.  2 Cam. 
I'll tell money after my Father: oh I am struck blind!  Omnes. 
The fellow is bewitched Sir.  Eugen. 
Great King, impute not  
This most miraculous delivery  
To witchcraft; 'tis a gentle admonition  
To teach thy heart obey it.  King. 
Lift up the slave,  
Though he has lost his sight, his feeling is not:  
He dies unless he ravish her.  Epid. 
Force her into thy arms, or else thou diest.  2 Cam. 
I have lost my hearing too.  King. 
Fetch other slaves.  Epid. 
Thou must force her.  2 Cam. 
Truly I am hoarse often with driving my Camels, and nothing does me good but syrup of Horehound.  Enter two Slaves. Epid. 
Here are two slaves will do it indeed.  2. 
Which is she?  King. 
This creature, she has beauty to entice you,  
And enough to feast you all: seize her all three,  
And ravish her by turns.  Slaves. 
A match.  They dance antiquely, and Exeunt. King. 
Hang up these slaves,  
I am mocked by her and them:  
They dance me into anger:  
Heard you not music?  Anth. 
Yes sure, and most sweet melody.  Vict. 
'Tis the heaven's play,  
And the Clouds dance for joy thy cruelty  
Has not ta'en hold upon me.  King. 
Hunger then shall:  
Lead them away, drag her to some loathed dungeon,  
And for three days give her no food;  
Load them with Irons.  Epid. 
They shall.  Eug. 
Come fellow soldiers, half the fight is past,  
The bloodiest battle comes to an end at last.   

ACTUS QUINTUS.  Enter Epiphodorus and Clowne. Epid. 
Have any Christian soul broke from my Jail  
This night, and gone i'th' dark to find out heaven?  
Are any of my hated prisoners dead?  Clown. 
Dead, yes,  
And five more come into the world, in stead of one;  
These Christians are like Artichokes of jerusalem,  
They overrun any ground they grow in.  Epid. 
Are they so fruitful?  Clown. 
Fruitful?  
A He Christian told me, that amongst them the young fellows are such ear-ring rioted Rascals, that they will run into the park of Matrimony at sixteen: are Bucks of the first head at eighteen, and by twenty carry in some places their horns on their backs.  Epid. 
On their backs?  
What kind of Christians are they?  Clown. 
Marry these are Christian Butchers, who when their Oxen are flayed, throw their skins on their shoulders.  Epid. 
I thought they had been Cuckolds.  Clown 
Amongst them, no, there's no woman, that's a true Christian, will horn her husband: there died tonight no less than six and a half in our jail.  Epid. 
How? six and a half?  Clown. 
One was a girl of thirteen with child.  Epid. 
Thy tidings fats me.  Clow. 
You may have one or two of 'em dressed to your Dinner to make you more fat.  Epid. 
Unhallowed slave, let a jew eat Pork,  
When I but touch a Christian.  Clow. 
You are not of my diet: would I had a young loin of Pork to my Supper, and two Loins of a pretty sweet Christian after Supper.  Epid. 
Would thou mightst eat and choke.  Clow. 
Never at such meat; it goes down without chawing.  Epid. 
We have a task in hand to kill a Serpent,  
Which spits her poison in our kingdom's face,  
And that we speak not of: lives still  
That Witch Victoria, wife to belizarius?  
Is Death afraid to touch the Hag? does hunger  
Tremble to gnaw her flesh off, dry up her blood,  
And make her eat herself in Curses, ha?  Clow. 
Ha? your mouth gapes as if you would eat me: the King commanded she should be laden with Irons; I have laid two load upon her, than to pop her into the Dungeon, I thrust down as deep as I could: than to give her no meat; Alas my cheeks cry out, I have meat little enough for myself: Three days and three nights has her cupboard had no victuals in it: I saw no less than Fifty six Mice run out of the hole she lies in, and not a crumb of bread or bit of cheese amongst them.  Epid. 
'Tis the better.  Clow. 
I heard her one morning cough pitifully, upon which I gave her a mess of Porridge piping-hot.  Epid. 
Thou Dog, 'tis death.  Clow. 
Nay but sir, I poured 'em down scalding as they were on her head, because they say, they are good for a cold, and I think that killed her: for to try if she were alive or no, I did but even now tie a Crust to a packthread on a pin, but she leapt not at it; so that I am sure she's worm's meat by this.  Epid. 
Rewards in golden showers shall rain upon us:  
Be thy words true? fall down and kiss the earth.  Clown. 
Kiss earth, why? and so many wenches come to the jail?  Epid. 
Slave down, and clap thy ear to the caves mouth,  
And make me glad or heavy;  
If she speak not, I shall crack  
My ribs, and spend my spleen in laughter;  
But if thou hear'st her pant, I am gone.  Clown. 
Farewell then.  Epid. 
Breathes she?  Clown. 
No sir; her wind instrument is out of tune.  Epid. 
Call, call.  Clown. 
Do you hear, you low woman, hold not down your head so for shame, creep not thus into a corner, no honest woman loves to be fumbling thus in the dark: hang her she has no tongue.  Epid. 
Would twenty thousand of their sex had none.  Clown. 
fox, Fox, come out of your hole.  An Angel ascends from the cave, singing. Epid. 
Horror, what's this?  Clown. 
Alas I know not what myself am.  Angel Sings. 
Fly darkness fly, in spite of Caves,  
Truth can thrust her arms through Graves,  
No Tyrant shalt confine  
A white soul that's divine,  
And does more brightly shine  
Than Moon or Sun,  
She lasts when they are done.  Epid, 
I am bewitched;  
Mine Eyes fail me; lead me to King.  Clown. 
And tell, we heard a Mermaid sing. Exeunt.  Angel Sings. 
Go fools, and let your fears  
Glow as your sins and cares,  
The good howe'er trod under,  
Are laureled safe in thunder:  
Though locked up in a den,  
One Angel frees you from an host of men.  The Angel descends, as the King enters, who comes in with his Lords, Epidophorus, and the Clown. King. 
Where is this piece of witchcraft?  Epid. 
'Tis vanished Sir.  Clown. 
'Twas here, just at the Caves mouth, where she lies.  Anton. 
What manner of thing was it?  Epid. 
An admirable face, and when it sung  
All the Clouds danced methought above our heads.  Clown. 
And all the ground under my heels quaked like a Bog.  King. 
Deluded slaves, these are turned Christians too.  Epid. 
The prisoners in my jail will not say so.  Clown. 
Turned Christians? it has ever been my profession to fang and clutch, and to squeeze: I was first a Varlet, than a Bumbailiff, now an under jailor turned Christian?  King. 
Break up the Iron passage of the Cave,  
And if the sorceress lives, tear her in pieces.  The Angel ascends again. Epid. 
See, 'tis come again.  King. 
It staggers me.  Omnes. 
Amazement; look to the King.  Angel Sings. 
she comes, she comes, she comes:  
No banquets are so sweet as Martyrdoms:  
She comes.  Angel descends. Anton. 
'Tis vanished Sir again.  Dam. 
Mere Negromancy.  Cosmo. 
This is the apparition of some devil,  
Stealing a glorious shape, and cries, she comes.  Clown. 
If all devils were no worse, would I were amongst 'em.  King. 
Our power is mocked by magical impostures,  
They shall not mock our tortures: let Eugenius  
And belizarius fright away these shadows,  
Rung from sharp tortures; drag them hither.  Epid. 
To th' stake?  Clown. 
As Bears are?  King. 
And upon your lives,  
My longings feast with her, though her base limbs  
Be in a thousand pieces.  Clown. 
She shall be gathered up. Exit Epid, and Clown.  Victoria rises out of the cave white. Vict. 
What's the Kings will? I am here  
Are your tormentors ready to give battle?  
I am ready for them, and though I lose  
My life, hope to win the day.  King. 
What art thou?  Vict. 
An armed Christian.  King. 
What's thy name?  Vict. 
Victoria;  
In my name there's conquest writ;  
I therefore fear no threatenings; but pray,  
That thou mayst die a good King.  Omnes. 
This is not she Sir.  King. 
It is; but on her brow some Deity sits:  
What are those Fairies dressing up her hair,  
Whilst sweeter spirits dancing in her eyes,  
Bewitcheth me to them?  Enter Epidophorus, belizarius, Eugenius, and Clown. 
Oh Victoria, love me,  
And see thy Husband, now a slave, whose life  
Hangs at a needle's point, shall live, so thou  
Breath but the doom.  
traitors, what sorcerous hand  
Has built upon this enchantment of a Christian,  
To make me dote upon the beauty of it?  
How comes she to this habit?  
Went she thus in?  Epid. 
No Sir, mine own hands stripped her into rags.  Clown. 
For any meat she has eaten, her face needs not make you dote, and for clean linen, I'll swear, it was not brought into the jail, for there they scorn to shift once a week.  King. 
belizarius,  
Woe thy wife that she would love me,  
And thou shalt live.  Bel. 
I will— Victoria,  
By all those chaste fires kindled in our bosoms,  
Through which pure love shined on our marriage night;  
Nay with a holier conjuration:  
By all those thorns and briers which thy soft feet  
Tread boldly on, to find a path to heaven,  
I beg of thee, even on my knee I beg,  
That thou wouldst love this King, take him byth' hand,  
Warm his in thine, and hang about his neck,  
And seal ten thousand kisses on his cheek,  
So he will tread his false gods under foot.  Omnes. 
Oh horrible!  King. 
Bring tortures.  Bel. 
So he will wash his soul white as we do,  
And fight under our Banner, (bloody red)  
And hand in hand with us walk martyred.  Anton. 
They mock you.  King. 
Stretch his body up byth' arms,  
And at his feet hang plummets,  Clown. 
He shall be well shod for stroveling I warrant you.  Cosmo. 
Eugenius, bow thy knee before our jove,  
And the King gives thee mercy.  Dam. 
Else stripes and death.  Eugen. 
We come into the world but at one door,  
But twenty thousand gates stand open wide,  
To give us passage hence: death then is easy,  
And I defy all tortures.  King. 
There fasten the Caitiff;  
I care not for thy wife:  
Get from mine eye, thou tempting Lamia:  
But belizarius, before thy body's  
Frame be pulled in pieces, and every  
Limb disjointed, wilt thou forsake  
The errors thou art drenched in?  Bel. 
Errors?  
Thou blasphemous and god less man,  
From the great Axis mayst thou as easy, with one arm,  
Pluck the Universal Globe,  
As from my Centre move me—  
There's my figure, they are waves  
That beat a rock insensible,  
With an infatigable patience  
My breast dares all your arrows; shoot— shoot all;  
Your tortures are but struck against the wall;  
Which, back rebounding, hit yourselves.  King. 
Up with him.  Bel. 
Lay on more weights:  
That hangman which more brings,  
Adds active feathers to my soaring wings,  They draw him up. King. 
Victoria yet save him.  Vict. 
Keep on thy flight,  
And be a bird of Paradise.  Omnes. 
Give him more Irons.  Bel. 
More, more.  King. 
Let him then go:  
Live thou, and be my Queen.  
Deign but to love me.  Vict. 
I am going to live with a far greater King.  King. 
Bind the coy strumpet, she dies too.  
Let her brains be beaten on an Anvil:  
For some new plagues for her.  Omnes. 
Vex him.  Bel. 
do more.  Vict. 
Heaven pardon you.  Eugen. 
And strengthen him in all his sufferings.  Two Angels descend. 2. Angel Sings. 

Come, oh come, oh come away,  
A Choir of Angels for thee stay:  
A Rome where Diamonds borrow light,  
Open stands for thee this night.  
Night, no, no, here is ever day,  
Come, oh come, oh come, oh come away.   1 Ang. 
This battle is thy last, fight well, and win  
A Crown set full of Stars.  Bel. 
I spy an arm plucking up to heaven:  
More weights you are best,  
I shall be gone else.  Vict. 
Do, I'll follow thee.  King. 
Is he not yet dispatched?  Belliz. 
Yes King, I thank thee;  
I have all my life time trod on rotten ground,  
And still so deep been sinking,  
That my soul was oft like to be lost;  
But now I see a guide, sweet guide,  
A blessed messenger, who having  
Brought me up a little way  
Up yonder hill, I there am sure to buy,  
For a few stripes here, rich eternity.  2 Angel Sings. 

Victory, victory, hell is beaten down,  
The Martyr has put on a golden Crown;  
Ring Bells of Heaven, him welcome hither,  
Circle him Angels round together.   1 Aug. 
Follow.  Vict. 
I will:  
What sacred voice cries follow?  
I am ready: Oh send me after him.  King. 
Thou shalt not,  
Till thou hast fed my lust.  Vict. 
Thou fool thou canst not;  
All my mortality is shaken off,  
My heart of flesh and blood is gone,  
My body is changed, this face  
Is not that once was mine;  
I am a Spirit, and no rack of thine  
Can touch me.  King. 
Not a rack of mine shall touch thee:  
Why should the world lose such  
A pair of Suns as shine out from  
Thine eyes: why art thou cruel to make away  
thyself, and murder me?  
Since whirlwinds cannot shake thee,  
Thou shalt live, and I'll fan gentle  
Gales upon thy face: fetch me a day bed,  
Rob the earth's perfumes of all  
The ravishing sweets, to feast her fence;  
Pillows of roses shall bear up her head:  
O would a thousand springs might grow in one,  
To weave a flowery mantle o'er her limbs,  
As she lies down.  Enter two Angels about the bed. Vict. 
Oh that some rock of Ice,  
Might fall on me, and freeze me into nothing.  King. 
Enchant our ears with Music: Music.  
Would I had skill to call the winged  
Musicians of the air into these rooms,  
They all should play to thee,  
Till golden slumbers danced upon thy brows,  
Watching to close thine eyelids.  Ang. 
These Stars must shine no more; soul fly away:  
Tyrant enjoy but a cold lump of clay.  King. 
My charms work,  
She sleeps, and looks more lovely  
Now she sleeps, against she wakes:  
Invention grow thou poor, studying  
To find a banquet, which the gods might  
Be invited to: I need not court her now  
For a poor kiss; her lips are friendly now,  
And with the warm breath sweating  
All the Air draw me thus to them— ha!  
The lips of Winter  
Are not so cold.  Anton. 
She's dead Sir.  King. 
Dead?  Dam. 
As frozen as if the Northwind had in spite  
Snatched her hence from you.  King. 
Oh I have murdered her:  
Perfumes, some creature kill:  
She has so long in that dark Dungeon  
Sucked pestiferous breath, the sweet has  
Stifled her: take hence the body;  
Since me it hated, it shall feel my hate:  
Cast her into the fire, I have lost her,  
And for her sake all Christians shall be lost,  
That subjects are to me: massacre all:  
But thou, Eugenius, art the last shall fall  
This day: and in mine eye, though it ne'er see more,  
Call on thy helper which thou dost adore.  A Thunderbolt strikes him. Omnes. 
The King is struck with thunder.  Eugen. 
Thanks Divine Powers,  
Yours be the triumph, and the wonder ours.  Anton. 
Unbind him, till a new King fill the Throne;  
And he shall doom him.  
A Hubert, a Hubert, a Hubert.  Flourish: Enter Hubert armed with shields, and swords, Bellina, and a company of Soldiers with him. Hub. 
What means this cry, a Hubert?  
Where's your King?  Omnes. 
Struck dead by thunder.  Hub. 
So I hear:  
You see then there is an arm more  
Rigorous than your love; an arm  
Stretched from above to beat down Giants,  
The mightiest Kings on earth, for all their  
Shoulders carry Colossi heads:  
The memory of Genzerick's name dies here:  
Henrick, gives burial to the  
Successive glory of that race,  
Who had both voice and title to the Crown,  
And means to guard it: who must now be King?  Anton. 
We know not, till we call the Lords together.  Hub. 
What Lords?  Cosm. 
ourselves and others.  Hub. 
Who makes you Lords?  
The Tree upon whose boughs your honours grew;  
Your Lord ships and your lives  
Is fall'n to th' ground.  Dam. 
We stand on our own strength.  Hub. 
Who must be King?  
Within .A Hubert, a Hubert, a Hubert.  Hub. 
Deliver to my hand that reverent man.  Epid. 
Take him, and torture him,  
For he called down vengeance  
On Henricks head.  Eugen. 
'Twas his own black soul that called it;  
'Twas thou that calld'st it.  Hub. 
Good Eugenius, lift thy hands up,  
For thou art saved from Henrick,  
And from these: you hear what echoes  
Rebound from earth to heaven, from heaven to earth,  
Casting the name of King only on me.  
This golden Apple is a tempting fruit;  
It is within my reach: this sword can touch it,  
And lop the weak branch off, on which it hangs:  
Which of you all would spurn at such a Star,  
Lay it i'th' dust, when 'tis let down from heaven?  
For him to wear?  Anton. 
Who then must wear that Star?  
Within .Hubert, Hubert, Hubert.  Hub. 
The Oracle tells you;  
Oracle, 'tis a voice from above  
Tells you; for the people's tongues,  
When they pronounce good things, are tied to chains  
Of twenty thousand links; which chains are held  
By one supernal hand, and cannot speak,  
But what that hand will suffer: I have then  
The people on my side, I have the soldiers,  
I have that army which your rash young King  
Had bent against the Christians, they now are mine:  
I am the Centre, and they all are lines  
Meeting in me; if therefore these strong sinews,  
The Soldiers and the Commons have a virtue  
To lift me into the Throne, I'll leap into it:  
Will you consent, or no; be quick in answer;  
I must be swift in execution else.  Omnes. 
Let us consult.  Hub. 
Do, and do't quickly.  Eugen. 
O noble Sir, if you be King, shoot forth  
Bright as a Sunbeam, and dry up these vapours  
That choke this kingdom; dry the seas of blood,  
Flowing from Christians, and drink up the tears  
Of those alive, half slaughtered in their fears.  Hub. 
Father I'll not offend you; have you done?  
So long choosing one Crown?  Anton. 
Let Drums and Trumpets proclaim  
Hubert our King.  Omnes. 
Sound Drums and Trumpets.  Hub. 
I have it then as well by voice as sword;  
For should you hold it back it would be mine:  
I claim it then by conquest, fields are won  
By yielding, as by strokes; yet noble Vandals,  
I will lay by the Conquest, and acknowledge,  
That your hands and your hearts the pinnacles are,  
On which my greatness mounts unto this height;  
And now in sight of you and heaven I swear,  
By those new sacred fires kindled within me,  
'Tis not your hope of Gold my brow desires;  
A thronging Court to me is but a Cell:  
These popular acclamations, which thus dance  
I'th' Air, should pass by me, as whistling winds  
Playing with leaves of trees: I'm not ambitious  
Of Titles glorious, and majestical:  
But what I do is to save blood, save you:  
I mean to be a husband for you all,  
And fill you all with riches.  Epid. 
'Tis that we thirst for,  
For all our bags are emptied in these wars,  
Raised by seditious Christians.  Hub. 
Peace thou fool;  
They are not bags of gold, that melts in fire,  
Which I will fill your coffers with, my treasury  
Are riches for your souls, my arms are spread,  
Like wings, to protect Christians; what have you done?  
Proclaimed a Christian King? and Christian Kings  
Should not be bloody.  Omnes. 
How? turned Christian?  Eugen. 
O blessed King, happy day.  Omnes. 
Must we forsake our gods then?  Hub. 
Violent streams  
Must not be stopped by violence; there's an art  
To meet, and put by the most boisterous wave:  
'Tis now no policy for you to murmur,  
Nor will I threaten: a great counsel by you  
Shall straight be called, to set this frame in order  
Of this great state.  Omnes. 
To that we all are willing.  Hub. 
Are you then willing this noble maid  
Shall be me Queen?  Omnes. 
With all our hearts.  Hub. 
By no hand but by thine will we be Crowned:  
Come my Bellina.  Bel. 
Your vow is passed to me, that I should ever  
Preserve my Virgin honour, that you would never  
Tempt me unto your bed.  Hub. 
That vow I keep:  
I vowed so long as my knees bowed to jove,  
To let you be yourself: But excellent Lady,  
I now am sealed a Christian, as you are;  
And you have sworn oft, that when upon my forehead  
That glorious Star was stuck you would be mine  
In holy wedlock; come sweet, you and I  
Shall from our loins produce a race of Kings,  
And ploughing up false gods set up one true:  
Christians unborn, crowning both me and you  
With praise, as now with gold.  Bel. 
A fortunate day;  
A great power prompts me on, and I obey. Flourish.  Omnes. 
Long live Hubert and Bellina, King and Queen  
Of Goths and Vandals.  Hub. 
Two royal jewels you give me, this, and this.  
Father your hand is lucky, I am covetous  
Of one Gift more; after your sacred way  
Make you this Queen a wife; our Coronation  
Is turned into a bridal.  Omnes. 
All joy and happiness.  Hub. 
To guard your lives will I lay out mine own,  
And like Vines plant you round about my throne.  
The end of the fift and last Act.    

To the Reader of this Play now come in Print.  
THat this play's old, 'tis true; but now if any  
Should for that cause despise it, we have many  
Reasons, both just and pregnant, to maintain  
Antiquity, and those too, not all vain.  
We know (and not long since) there was a time,  
Strong lines were not looked after; but if Rhyme,  
O then 'twas excellent: who but believes,  
That Doublets with stuffed bellies, and big sleeves,  
And those Trunk-hose, which now our Age doth scorn,  
Were all in fashion, and with custom worn:  
And what's now out of date, who is't can tell,  
But it may come in fashion, and suit well?  
With rigour therefore judge not, but with reason,  
Since what you read was fitted to that season.   

The Epilogue.  
AS in a Feast, so in a Comedy,  
Two Senses must be pleased, in both the Eye.  
In Feasts, the Eye and Taste must be invited,  
In Comedies, the Eye and Ear delighted:  
And he that only seeks to please but either,  
While both he doth not please, he pleaseth neither:  
whatever Feast, could every guest content:  
whenas t'each man, each Taste is different?  
But less a Scene, where nought, but as 'tis newer,  
Can please, where Guests are more, and Dishes fewer:  
Yet in this thought, this thought the Author eased;  
Who once made all, all but all never pleased:  
Fain would we please the best, if not the many,  
And sooner will the best be pleased, than any:  
Our rest we set in pleasing of the best:  
So we wish you, what you may give us: Rest.  
FINIS.   


NI-COLIA ARBOR IOVIS. 1610. TAM ROBUR. TAM ROBOR.