Volume Xiv Part 34 (2/2)

ALV. Do, do: make haste to crown him. Lords, adieu: Here h.e.l.l must be, when the devil governs you.

[_Exit._

ELE. By heaven's great star, which Indians do adore, But that I hate to hear the giddy world Shame, that I waded to a crown through blood, I'd not digest his pills: but since, my lords, You have chosen Eleazar for your king, Invest me with a general applause.

ALL. Live, Eleazar, Castile's royal king!

ROD. A villain and a base-born fugitive.

[_Aside._]

CHRIS. A b.l.o.o.d.y tyrant and usurping slave.

[_Aside._]

ELE. Thanks to you all: 'tis not the Spanish crown That Eleazar strives for, but Spain's peace.

Amongst you I'll divide her empery: Christofero shall wear Granada's crown; To Roderigo I'll give Arragon; Naples, Navarre, and fair Jerusalem I'll give to other three; and then our viceroys Shall s.h.i.+ne about our bright Castilian crown, As stars about the sun. Cry all, arm, arm; Prince Philip and the cardinal do ride Like Jove in thunder; in a storm we'll meet them.

Go, levy powers; if any man must fall, My death shall first begin the funeral.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_Enter_ ZARACK _and_ BALTHAZAR, _with calivers_.

BAL. Is thy c.o.c.k ready, and thy powder dry?

ZAR. My c.o.c.k stands perching like a c.o.c.k o' the game, with a red coal for his crest, instead of a comb; and for my powder, 'tis but touch and take.

BAL. I have tickling gear too; anon I'll cry, here I have it, and yonder I see it. But, Zarack, is't policy for us to kill these bald-pates?

ZAR. Is't policy for us to save ourselves? If they live, we die.

Is't not wisdom then to send them to heaven, rather than be sent ourselves? Come, you black slave, be resolute. This way they come; here they will stand, and yonder will I stand.

BAL. And in yonder hole I.

ZAR. Our amiable faces cannot be seen if we keep close; therefore hide your c.o.c.k's head, lest his burning c.o.c.k's-comb betray us.

But soft; which of the two shall be thy white?[65]

BAL. That black villain friar Cole.

ZAR. I shall have a sharp piece of service; friar Crab shall be my man. Farewell, and be resolute.

BAL. Zounds! Zarack, I shall never have the heart to do it.

ZAR. You rogue, think who commands--Eleazar. Who shall rise--Balthazar. Who shall die--a lousy friar. Who shall live--our good lord and master, the negro-king of Spain.

BAL. Cole, thou art but a dead man, and shalt turn to ashes.

[_Exit._

ZAR. Crab, here's that shall make vinegar of thy carcase.

<script>