Chapter 13

Enter Medina, Daenia, Alba, Carlo and The Faction with Rosemary <53> in their hats.

MEDINA Keep locked the door, and let none enter to us But who shares our fortunes.

DAENIA Lock the doors.

ALBA What entertainment did the King bestow Upon your letters and the Cardinal's?

MEDINA With a devouring eye he read them o'er, Swallowing our offers into his empty bosom, As gladly as the parched earth drinks healths Out of the cup of heaven.

CARLO Little suspecting What dangers closely lie enambushed.

DAENIA Let us not trust to that. There's in his breast Both fox and lion, and both these beasts can bite. We must not now behold the narrowest loop-hole, But presently suspect a winged bullet Flies whizzing by our ears.

MEDINA For when I let The plummet fall to sound his very soul In his close-chamber, being French-Doctor like, He to the Cardinal's ear sung sorcerous notes, The burden of his song, to mine, was death, Onaelia's murder, and Sebastian's. And think you his voice alters now? 'Tis strange, To see how brave this tyrant shows in court, Throned like a god. Great men are pretty stars, When his rays shine, wonder fills up all eyes By sight of him, let him but once check sin, About him round all cry, oh excellent King! Oh Saint-like man! But, let this King retire Into his closet to put off his robes, He like a player leaves his part too. Open his breast, and with a sunbeam search it, There's no such man. This King of gilded clay, Within is ugliness, lust, treachery, And a base soul, though reared Colossus-like.

Balthazar beats to come.

DAENIA None till he speaks, and that we know his voice. Who are you?

BALTHAZAR (within) An honest house-keeper in Rosemary Lane <54> too, if you dwell in the same parish.

MEDINA Oh 'tis our honest soldier, give him entrance.

BALTHAZAR Men show like coarses, for I meet few but are stuck with Rosemary. Every one asked me who was married today, and I told them Adultery and Repentance, and that Shame and a Hangman followed them to church.

MEDINA There's but two parts to play, shame has done hers, But execution must close up the scene, And for that cause these sprigs are worn by all, Bags of marriage, now of funeral, For death this day turns courtier.

BALTHAZAR Who must dance with him?

MEDINA The King, and all that are our opposites. That dart or this must fly into the court Either to shoot this blazing star from Spain, Or else so long to wrap him up in clouds, Till all the fatal fires in him burn out, Leaving his state and conscience clear from doubt Of following uproars.

ALBA Kill not, but surprise him.

CARLO That's my voice still.

MEDINA Thine, soldier?

BALTHAZAR Oh, this colic of a kingdom, when the wind of treason gets amongst the small guts, what a rumbling and a roaring it keeps. And yet, make the best of it you can, it goes on stinking. Kill a King?

DAENIA Why?

BALTHAZAR If men should pull the sun out of heaven every time 'tis eclipsed, not all the wax nor tallow in Spain would serve to make us candles for one year.

MEDINA No way to purge The sick state, but by opening a vein.

BALTHAZAR Is that your French physic? If every one of us should be whipped according to our faults, to be lashed at a cart's tail would be held but a flea biting.

Enter Signor No.

MEDINA whispers What are you? Come from the King?

NO No.

BALTHAZAR No? More no's? I know him, let him enter.

MEDINA Signor, I thank your kind intelligence, The news long since was sent into our ears, Yet we embrace your love, so fare you well.

CARLO Will you smell to a sprig of rosemary?

NO No.

BALTHAZAR Will you be hanged?

NO No.

BALTHAZAR This is either Signor No, or no Signor.

MEDINA He makes his love to us a warning piece To arm ourselves against we come to court, Because the guard is doubled.

ALL Tush, we care not.

BALTHAZAR If any here arms his hand to cut off the head, let him first pluck out my throat. In any noble act I'll wade chin-deep with you. But to kill a King?

MEDINA No hear me...

BALTHAZAR You were better, my Lord, sail five hundred times to Bantam <55> in the West Indies, that once to Barathrum in the Low Countries. It's hot going under the line there, the calenture <56> of the soul is a most miserable madness.

MEDINA Turn then this wheel of fate from shedding blood Till with her own hand Justice weighs all.

BALTHAZAR Good.

Exeunt.