Volume Xiv Part 23 (1/2)

ELE. Ugly as h.e.l.l.

QUEEN-M. Thou lov'dst me once.

ELE. That can thy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds tell.

QUEEN-M. What is my sin? I will amend the same.

ELE. Hence, strumpet! use of sin makes thee past shame.

QUEEN-M. Strumpet!

ELE. Ay, strumpet.

QUEEN-M. Too true 'tis, woe is me; I am a strumpet, but made so by thee.

ELE. By me!

No, no, by these young bawds: fetch thee a gla.s.s, And thou shalt see the b.a.l.l.s of both thine eyes Burning in fire of l.u.s.t. By me! There's here, Within this hollow cistern of thy breast, A spring of hot blood: have not I, to cool it, Made an extraction to the quintessence Even of my soul: melted all my spirits, Ravish'd my youth, deflow'r'd my lovely cheeks, And dried this, this to an anatomy, Only to feed your l.u.s.t?--these boys have ears--

[_In a whisper._]

Yet wouldst thou murder me.

QUEEN-M. I murder thee!

ELE. I cannot ride through the Castilian streets But thousand eyes, through windows and through doors, Throw killing looks at me; and every slave At Eleazar darts a finger out, And every hissing tongue cries, ”There's the Moor; That's he that makes a cuckold of our king; There goes the minion of the Spanish queen; That's the black prince of devils; there goes he That on smooth boys, on masques and revellings, Spend[s] the revenues of the King of Spain.”

Who arms this many-headed beast but you?

Murder and l.u.s.t are twins, and both are thine.

Being weary of me, thou wouldst worry me, Because some new love makes thee loathe thine old.

QUEEN-M. Eleazar!

ELE. Harlot, I'll not hear thee speak.

QUEEN-M. I'll kill myself unless thou hear'st me speak.

My husband-king upon his deathbed lies, Yet have I stol'n from him to look on thee: A queen hath made herself thy concubine, Yet dost thou now abhor me; hear me speak, Else shall my sons plague thy adult'rous wrongs, And tread upon thy heart for murdering me: This tongue hath murder'd me. Cry murder, boys.

[_The_ QUEEN _shouts_.]

TWO BOYS. Murder! the queen's murder'd!

ELE. Love, slaves, peace!

TWO BOYS. Murder! the queen's murder'd!

ELE. Stop your throats!

Hark! hush, you squaller. Dear love, look up: Our chamber-window stares into the court, And every wide-mouth'd ear, hearing this news, Will give alarum to the cuckold king: I did dissemble when I chid my love, And that dissembling was to try my love.

QUEEN-M. Thou call'dst me strumpet.