SCENE V.

_Enter_ ELEAZAR, ISABELLA, ZARACK, _and_ BALTHAZAR.

ELE. It's strange! Will not Prince Philip come with Hortenzo?

ZAR. He swears he'll live and die there.

ELE. Marry, and shall.

[_Aside_.

I pray, persuade him, you, to leave the place. A prison! why, it's hell. 'Las, here they be! Ha! they are they, i' faith; see, see, see, see.

ALL. Moor, devil, toad, serpent!

ELE. O sweet airs, sweet voices!

ISA. O my Hortenzo!

ELE. Do not these birds sing sweetly, Isabella? O, how their spirits would leap aloft and spring, Had they their throats at liberty to sing!

PHIL. Damnation dog thee!

CAR. Furies follow thee!

QUEEN-M. Comets confound thee!

HOR. And hell swallow thee!

ELE. Sweeter and sweeter still. O harmony! Why, there's no music like to misery.

ISA. Hast thou betrayed me thus?

ELE. Not I, not I.

PHIL. Sirrah hedgehog.

ELE. Ha! I'll hear thee presently.

ISA. Hear me then, hellhound; slaves, unchain my love, Or by----

ELE. By what? Is't not rare walking here? Methinks this stage shows like a tennis-court; Does it not, Isabel? I'll show thee how-- Suppose that iron chain to be the line, The prison-doors the hazard, and their heads, Scarce peeping o'er the line, suppose the balls! Had I a racket now of burnish'd steel, How smoothly could I bandy every ball Over this globe of earth, win set, and all.

PHIL. How brisk the villain jets in villany!

ELE. Prating! he's proud because he wears a chain: Take it off, Balthazar, and take him hence.

[_They unbind him._

PHIL. And whither then, you dog?

ISA. Pity my brother.

ELE. Pity him! no; away!

PHIL. Ay, come, do come.[73] I pray thee kill me: come.

ELE. I hope to see Thy own hands do that office. Down with him!

PHIL. Is there another hell?

TWO MOORS. Try, try; he's gone.

ELE. So him next, he next, and next him; and then----

ALL. Worse than damnation! fiend, monster of men!

ELE. Why, when! Down, down!

CAR. Slave, as thou thrust me down Into this dungeon, so sink thou to hell.

QUEEN-M. Amen, amen.

ELE. Together so; and you--

ISA. O, pity my Hortenzo!

HOR. Farewell, my Isabel; my life, adieu.

ALL. Mischief and horror let the Moor pursue!

ELE. A concert! that amain;[74] play that amain; Amain, amain. No; so soon fallen asleep! Nay, I'll not lose this music; sirrah, sirrah, Take thou a drum, a trumpet thou; and hark, Mad them with villanous sounds.

ZAR. Rare sport; let's go.

[_Exeunt_ ZARACK _and_ BALTHAZAR.

ELE. About it: music will do well in woe. How like you this?

ISA. Set my Hortenzo free, And I'll like anything.

ELE. A fool, a fool. Hortenzo free! why, look you, he free! no; Then must he marry you; you must be queen, He in a manner king; these dignities, Like poison, make men swell; this ratsbane honour, O, 'tis so sweet! they'll lick it, till all burst: He will be proud; and pride, you know, must fall. Come, come, he shall not; no, no, 'tis more meet To keep him down safe standing on his feet.

ISA. Eleazar!

ELE. Mark, the imperial chair of Spain Is now as empty as a miser's alms: Be wise, I yet dare sit in't; it's for you, If you will be for me; there's room for two. Do--meditate--muse on't: its best for thee To love me, live with me, and lie with me.

ISA. Thou know'st I'll first lie in the arms of death. My meditations are how to revenge Thy bloody tyrannies. I fear thee not, Inhuman slave, but to thy face defy Thy lust, thy love, thy barbarous villany.

ELE. Zarack.

_Enter_ ZARACK.

ZAR. My lord.

ELE. Where's Balthazar?

ZAR. A-drumming.

ELE. I have made them rave and curse, and so guard her. Your court shall be this prison; guard her, slaves, With open eyes: defy me! see my veins Struck't out, being overheated with my blood, Boiling in wrath; I'll tame you.

ISA. Do, do.

ELE. Ha, I will! and once more fill a kingdom's throne. Spain, I'll new-mould thee: I will have a chair Made all of dead men's bones; and the ascents Shall be the heads of Spaniards set in ranks: I will have Philip's head, Hortenzo's head, Mendoza's head, thy mother's head, and this-- This head, that is so cross, I'll have't. The scene wants actors; I'll fetch more, and clothe it In rich cothurnal pomp: a tragedy Ought to be grave: graves this shall beautify. Moor, execute to th' life my dread commands; Vengeance, awake, thou hast much work in hand.

[_Exit._

ZAR. I am weary of this office and this life; It is too thirsty, and I would your blood Might 'scape the filling out. By heaven, I swear, I scorn these blows and his rebukes to bear.

ISA. O Zarack, pity me; I love thee well; Love deserves pity; pity Isabel.

ZAR. What would you have me do?

ISA. To kill this Moor.

ZAR. I'll cast an eye of death upon my face; I'll be no more his slave. Swear to advance me, And, by yon setting sun, this hand and this Shall rid you of a tyrant.

ISA. By my birth, No Spaniard's honour'd place shall equal thine.

ZAR. I'll kill him then.

ISA. And Balthazar?

ZAR. And he.

ISA. I pray thee, first fetch Philip and Hortenzo Out of that hell; they two will be most glad To aid thee in this execution.

ZAR. My Lord Philippo and Hortenzo, rise. Your hands; so, talk to her: at my return This sword shall reek with blood of Balthazar.

[_Exit._

PHIL. Three curses (like three commendations To their souls) I send: thy tortured brother; Does curse the cardinal, the Moor, thy mother.

ISA. Curse not at all! dear souls, revenge is hot, And boils in Zarack's brains; the plot is cast Into the mould of hell: you freemen are: Zarack will kill the Moor and Balthazar.

HOR. How can that relish?

ISA. I'll tell you how: I did profess, ay, and protested too, I lov'd him well; what will not sorrow do! Then he profess'd, ay, and protested too, To kill them both; what will not devils do!

PHIL. Then I profess, ay, and protest it too, That here's for him; what will not Philip do!

HOR. See where he comes.

_Enter the two Moors._

BAL. Zarack, what do I see? Hortenzo and Philippo? who did this?

ZAR. I, Balthazar.

BAL. Thou art half-damn'd for it;[75] I'll to my lord.

ZAR. I'll stop you on your way; Lie there, thy tongue shall tell no tales to-day.

[_Stabs him._

PHIL. Nor thine to-morrow: this revenge was well.

[_Stabs him._

By this time both the slaves shake hands in hell.

ISA. Philippo and Hortenzo, stand you still? What, doat you both? Cannot you see your play? Well fare a woman then to lead the way. Once rob the dead; put the Moors' habits on, And paint your faces with the oil of hell: So, waiting on the tyrant----

PHIL. Come, no more, 'Tis here and here: room there below; stand wide, Bury them well, since they so godly died.

HOR. Away then, fate: now let revenge be plac'd.

PHIL. Here.

HOR. And here; a tyrant's blood doth sweetly taste.

[_Exeunt._