Chapter VI: Act IV: SCENE I. Abdelazer’s Tent

_Enter_ Abdelazer, Osmin _bearing his Helmet of Feathers_,
Zarrack _with his Sword and Truncheon_.

_Abd_. Come, _Osmin_, arm me quickly; for the Day Comes on apace, and the fierce Enemy Will take advantages by our delay.

_Enter_ Queen _and_ Elvira.

_Qu_. Oh, my dear Moor! The rude, exclaiming, ill-affected Multitude (Tempestuous as the Sea) run up and down, Some crying, kill the Bastard--some the Moor; These for King _Philip_,--those for _Abdelazer_.

_Abd_. Your Fears are idle,--blow ‘em into Air. I rush’d amongst the thickest of their Crouds, And with the awful Splendor of my Eyes, Like the imperious Sun, dispers’d the Clouds. But I must combat now a fiercer Foe, The hot-brain’d _Philip_, and a jealous Cardinal.

_Qu_. And must you go, before I make you mine?

_Abd_. That’s my Misfortune--when I return with Victory, And lay my Wreaths of Laurel at your Feet, You shall exchange them for your glorious Fetters.

_Qu_. How canst thou hope for Victory, when their Numbers So far exceed thy Powers?

_Abd_. What’s wanting there, we must supply with Conduct. I know you will not stop at any thing That may advance our Interest, and Enjoyment.

_Qu_. Look back on what I have already done; And after that look forward with Assurance.

_Abd_. You then (with only Women in your Train) Must to the Camp, and to the Cardinal’s Tent;-- Tell him, your Love to him hath drawn you thither: Then undermine his Soul--you know the way on’t. And sooth him into a Belief, that the best way To gain your Heart, is to leave _Philip’s_ Interest; Urge ‘tis the Kingdom’s safety, and your own; And use your fiercest Threats, to draw him to a Peace with me; Not that you love me, but for the Kingdom’s good: Then in a Tent which I will pitch on purpose, Get him to meet me: He being drawn off, Thousands of Bigots (who think to cheat the World Into an Opinion, that fighting for the Cardinal is A pious Work) will (when he leaves the Camp) Desert it too.

_Qu_. I understand you, and more than I have time to be Instructed in, I will perform; and possibly Before you can begin, I’ll end my Conquests.

_Abd_. ‘Twill be a Victory worthy of your Beauty. --I must to Horse, farewel, my generous Mistress.

_Qu_. Farewel! and may thy Arms as happy prove, As shall my Art, when it dissembles Love.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. Philip’s _Tent_.

_Enter_ Philip, Alonzo, _and Guards_.

_Phil_. ‘Tis a sad Story thou hast told, _Alonzo_; Yet ‘twill not make me shed one single Tear: They must be all of Blood that I will offer To my dear Brother’s Ghost-- But, gallant Friend, this Good his Ills have done, To turn thee over to our juster Interest, For thou didst love him once.

_Alon_. Whilst I believ’d him honest, and for my Sister’s sake; But since, his Crimes have made a Convert of me.

_Phil_. Gods! is it possible the Queen should countenance His horrid Villanies?

_Alon_. Nay, worse than so,’.is thought she’ll marry him.

_Phil_. Marry him! then here upon my Knees I vow, [_Kneels_. To shake all Duty from my Soul; And all that Reverence Children owe a Parent, Shall henceforth be converted into Hate. [_Rises_. --Damnation! marry him! Oh, I cou’d curse my Birth! This will confirm the World in their Opinion, That she’s the worst of Women; That I am basely born too, (as she gives it out) That Thought alone does a just Rage inspire, And kindles round my Heart an active Fire.

_Alan_. A Disobedience, Sir, to such a Parent, Heaven must forgive the Sin, if this be one: --Yet do not, Sir, in Words abate that Fire, Which will assist you a more effectual way.

_Phil_. Death! I could talk of it an Age; And, like a Woman, fret my Anger high: Till like my Rage, I have advanc’d my Courage, Able to fight the World against my Mother.

_Alan_. Our Wrongs without a Rage, will make us fight, Wrongs that wou’d make a Coward resolute.

_Phil_. Come, noble Youth, Let us join both our several Wrongs in one, And from them make a solemn Resolution, Never to part our Interest, till this Moor, This worse than Devil Moor be sent to Hell.

_Alon_. I do.

_Phil_. Hark--hark--the Charge is sounded, let’s to Horse, St. _Jaques_ for the Right of _Spain_ and me.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _A Grave_.

_Drums and Trumpets afar off,--with noise of fighting at a
distance: After a little while, enter_ Philip _in a Rage_.

_Phil_. Oh unjust Powers! why d’ye protect this Monster?-- And this damn’d Cardinal, that comes not up With the Castilian Troops? curse on his formal Politicks-- _Enter_ Alonzo. --_Alonzo_, where’s the Moor?

_Alon_. The Moor--a Devil--never did Fiend of Hell, Compell’d by some Magician’s Charms, Break thro the Prison of the folded Earth With more swift Horrour, than this Prince of Fate Breaks thro our Troops in spite of Opposition.

_Phil_. Death! ‘tis not his single Arm that works the Wonders, But our Cowardice--Oh, this Dog Cardinal!

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant_. Sound a Retreat, or else the Day is lost.

_Phil_. I’ll beat that Cur to Death that sounds Retreat.

_Enter_ Sebastian.

_Sebast_. Sound a Retreat.

_Phil_. Who is’t that tempts my Sword?--continue the Alarm, Fight on Pell-mell--fight--kill--be damn’d--do any thing But sound Retreat--Oh, this damn’d Coward Cardinal! [_Exeunt_.

_The noise of fighting near; after a little while enter
Philip again_.

_Phil_. Not yet, ye Gods! Oh, this eternal Coward!

_Enter_ Alonzo.

_Alon_. Sir, bring up your Reserves, or all is lost; Ambition plumes the Moor, that makes him act Deeds of such Wonder, that even you wou’d envy them.

_Phil_. ‘Tis well--I’ll raise my Glories to that dazling height, Shall darken his, or set in endless Night.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV. _A Grove_.

_Enter_ Card. and Queen; _the noise of a Battel continuing
afar off all the Scene_.

_Qu_. By all thy Love, by all thy Languishments, By all those Sighs and Tears paid to my Cruelty, By all thy Vows, thy passionate Letters sent, I do conjure thee, go not forth to fight: Command your Troops not to engage with _Philip_, Who aims at nothing but the Kingdom’s ruin. --_Fernando’s_ kill’d--the Moor has gain’d the Power, A Power that you nor _Philip_ can withstand; And is’t not better he were lost than _Spain_, Since one must be a Sacrifice? Besides--if I durst tell it, There’s something I cou’d whisper to thy Soul, Wou’d make thee blush at ev’ry single Good Thou’ast done that insolent Boy;--But ‘tis not now A time for Stories of so strange a Nature,-- Which when you know, you will conclude with me, That every Man that arms for _Philip’s_ Cause, Merits the name of Traitor.-- Be wise in time, and leave his shameful Interest, An Interest thou wilt curse thy self for taking; Be wise, and make Alliance with the Moor.

_Card_. And, Madam, should I lay aside my Wrongs, Those publick Injuries I have receiv’d, And make a mean and humble Peace with him? --No, let Spain be ruin’d by our Civil Swords, E’er for its safety I forego mine Honour.--

_Enter an Officer_.

_Offi_. Advance, Sir, with your Troops, or we are lost.

_Card_. Give order--

_Qu_. That they stir not on their Lives; Is this the Duty that you owe your Country? Is this your Sanctity--and Love to me? Is’t thus you treat the Glory I have offer’d To raise you to my Bed? To rule a Kingdom, be a Nation’s Safety, To advance in hostile manner to their Walls; Walls that confine your Countrymen, and Friends, And Queen, to whom you’ve vow’d eternal Peace, Eternal Love? And will you court in Arms? Such rude Addresses wou’d but ill become you. No, from this hour renounce all Claims to me, Or _Philip’s_ Interest; for let me tell you, Cardinal, This Love, and that Revenge, are inconsistent.

_Card_. But, Madam--

_Qu_. No more--disband your Rebel Troops, And strait with me to _Abdelazer’s_ Tent, Where all his Claims he shall resign to you, Both in my self, the Kingdom, and the Crown: You being departed, thousands more will leave him, And you’re alone the Prop to his Rebellion.

_Enter_ Sebastian.

_Sebast_. Advance, advance, my Lord, with all your Force, Or else the Prince and Victory is lost, Which now depends upon his single Valour; Who, like some ancient Hero, or some God, Thunders amongst the thickest of his Enemies, Destroying all before him in such numbers, That Piles of Dead obstruct his passage to the living-- Relieve him strait, my Lord, with our last Cavalry and Hopes.

_Card_. I’ll follow instantly.--
[_Ex_. Sebast.

_Qu_. Sir, but you shall not, unless it be to Death-- Shall you preserve the only Man I hate, And hate with so much reason?--let him fall A Victim to an injur’d Mother’s Honour. --Come, I will be obey’d--indeed I must--[_Fawns on him_.

_Card_. When you’re thus soft, can I retain my Anger? Oh, look but ever thus--in spite of Injuries-- I shall become as tame and peaceable, As are your charming Eyes, when dress’d in Love, Which melting down my Rage, leave me defenceless. --Ah, Madam, have a generous care of me, For I have now resign’d my Power to you.

[_Shouts within_.

_Qu_. What Shouts are these?

_Enter_ Sebastian.

_Sebast_. My Lord, the Enemy is giving ground, And _Philip’s_ Arm alone sustains the day: Advance, Sir, and compleat the Victory. [_Exit_.

_Qu_. Give order strait, that a Retreat be sounded; And whilst they do so, by me conducted, We’ll instantly to _Abdelazer’s_ Tent-- Haste--haste, my Lord, whilst I attend you here. [_Ex. severally_. [Cardinal _going out, is met by_ Philip.

_Phil_. Oh, damn your lazy Order, where have you been, Sir? --But ‘tis no time for Questions, Move forward with your Reserves.

_Card_. I will not, Sir.

_Phil_. How, will not!

_Card_. Now to advance would be impolitick; Already by your desperate Attempts, You’ve lost the best part of our Hopes.

_Phil_. Death! you lye.

_Card_. Lye, Sir!

_Phil_. Yes, lye, Sir,--therefore come on, Follow the desperate Reer-Guard, which is mine, And where I’ll die, or conquer--follow my Sword The bloody way it leads, or else, by Heaven, I’ll give the Moor the Victory in spite, And turn my Force on thee-- Plague of your Cowardice--Come, follow me.

[_Ex_. Card.

SCENE V. _The Grove_.

_As_ Philip _is going off, he is overtook by_ Alonzo, Antonio,
Sebastian, _and other Officers: At the other side some Moors,
and other of_ Abdelazer’s _Party, enter and fall on_ Philip _and
the rest--the Moors are beaten off--one left
dead on the Stage_.--

_Enter_ Abdelazer, _with_ Roderigo _and some others_.

_Abd_. Oh, for more Work--more Souls to send to Hell! --Ha, ha, ha, here’s one going thither,--Sirrah--Slave Moor--who kill’d thee?--how he grins--this Breast, Had it been temper’d and made proof like mine, It never wou’d have been a Mark for Fools.

Abd. _going out: Enter_ Philip, Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio,
_and Officers, as passing over the Stage_.

_Phil_. I’ll wear my Sword to th’ Hilt, but I will find The Subject of my Vengeance.-- Moor, ‘tis for thee I seek, where art thou, Slave?--

_Abd_. Here, _Philip_. [Abd. _turns_.

_Phil_. Fate and Revenge, I thank thee.--

_Abd_. Why--thou art brave, whoe’er begot thee.

_Phil_. Villain, a King begot me.

_Abd_. I know not that, But I’ll be sworn thy Mother was a Queen, And I will kill thee handsomly for her sake.

[_Offers to fight, their Parties hinder them_.

_Alon_. Hold--hold, my Prince.

_Osm_. Great Sir, what mean you? [_To_ Abd. The Victory being yours, to give your Life away On one so mad and desperate. [_Their Parties draw_.

_Phil. Alonzo_, hold, We two will be the Fate of this great Day.

_Abd_. And I’ll forego all I’ve already won, And claim no Conquest; the whole heaps of Bodies, Which this Right-hand has slain, declare me Victor.

_Phil_. No matter who’s the Victor; I have thee in my view, And will not leave thee, Till thou hast crown’d those Heaps, and made ‘em all The glorious Trophies of my Victory--Come on, Sir.

_Alon_. You shall not fight thus single; If you begin, by Heaven, we’ll all fall on.

_Phil_. Dost thou suspect my Power? Oh, I am arm’d with more than compleat Steel, The Justice of my Quarrel; when I look Upon my Father’s Wrongs, my Brother’s Wounds, My Mother’s Infamy, _Spain’s_ Misery, I am all Fire; and yet I am too cold To let out Blood enough for my Revenge: --Therefore stir not a Sword on my side.

_Abd_. Nor on mine.

_They fight; both their Parties engage on either side; the
Scene draws off, and discovers both the Armies, which
all fall on and make the main Battel:_ Philip _prevails,
the_ Moors _give ground: Then the Scene closes to the
the Grove. Enter some_ Moors _flying in disorder_.

SCENE VI. _Changes to a Tent_.

_Enter_ Abdelazer, Roderigo, Osmin, Zarrack, _and some
others of his Party_.

_Rod_. Oh, fly, my Lord, fly, for the Day is lost.

_Abd_. There are three hundred and odd Days i’th Year, And cannot we lose one? dismiss thy Fears, They’ll make a Coward of thee.

_Osm_. Sir, all the noble _Spaniards_ have forsook you; Your Soldiers faint, are round beset with Enemies, Nor can you shun your Fate, but by your Flight.

_Abd_. I can--and must--in spite of Fate: The Wheel of War shall turn about again, And dash the Current of his Victories.-- This is the Tent I’ve pitched, at distance from the Armies, To meet the Queen and Cardinal; Charm’d with the Magick of Dissimulation, I know by this h’as furl’d his Ensigns up, And is become a tame and coward Ass. [_A Retreat is sounded_. --Hark--hark, ‘tis done: oh, my inchanting Engine! --Dost thou not hear Retreat sounded?

_Rod_. Sure ‘tis impossible.

_Abd_. She has prevail’d--a Woman’s Tongue and Eyes Are Forces stronger than Artilleries. _Enter_ Queen, Cardinal, _Women, and Soldiers_. --We are betray’d--

_Qu_. What means this Jealousy? lay by your Weapons. And embrace--the sight of these beget Suspicion: --_Abdelazer_, by my Birth he comes in peace; Lord Cardinal, on my Honour so comes he.

_Abd_. Let him withdraw his Troops then.

_Qu_. They’re Guards for all our Safeties: Give me your Hand, Prince Cardinal--thine, _Abdelazer_-- [_She brings them together, they embrace_. This blest Accord I do behold with Joy.

_Card. Abdelazer_, I at the Queen’s Command have met you here, To know what ‘tis you will propose to us.

_Abd_. Peace and eternal Friendship ‘twixt us two. How much against my Will I took up Arms, Be witness, Heav’n: nor was it in revenge to you, But to let out th’ infected Blood of _Philip_, Whose sole aim Is to be King--which Spain will never suffer; Spain gave me Education, though not Birth, Which has intitled it my native Home, To which such Reverence and Esteem I bear, I will preserve it from the Tyrant’s Rage. The People who once lov’d him, now abhor him, And ‘tis your Power alone that buoys him up: And when you’ve lifted him into a Throne, ’.is time to shake you off.

_Card_. Whilst I behold him as my native Prince, My Honour and Religion bids me serve him; Yet not when I’m convinc’d that whilst I do so, I injure _Spain_.

_Abd_. If he were so, the Powers above forbid We should not serve, adore, and fight for him; But _Philip_ is a Bastard:--nay, ‘twill surprize ye, But that ‘tis Truth, the Queen will satisfy you.

_Qu_. With one bold Word he has undone my Honour. [_Weeps_. Too bluntly, _Abdelazer_, you repeat That which by slow Degrees you shou’d have utter’d.

_Abd_. Pardon my Roughness, Madam, I meant well.

_Card. Philip_ a Bastard! If by such Arts you wou’d divide me from him, I shall suspect you wou’d betray us both.

_Qu_. Sir, he informs you Truth; and I blush less To own him so, than that he is a Traitor.

_Card. Philip_ a Bastard! oh, it cannot be-- Madam, take heed you do not for Revenge, Barter your dearer Honour, and lose both.

_Qu_. I know what’s due to Honour, and Revenge, But better what I owe to _Spain_, and you-- You are a Prince o’th’ Blood, and may put off The Cardinal when you please, and be a Monarch.

_Card_. Though my Ambition’s equal to my Passion, Neither shall make me act against those Principles My Honour ever taught me to obey. --And, Madam-- ’.is less a Sin, not to believe you her, Than ‘tis to doubt your Virtue.

_Qu_. I wish it were untold, if it must forfeit The least of your Esteem--but that ‘tis Truth, Be witness, Heav’n, my Shame, my Sighs, and Tears. [_Weeps_.

_Card_. Why, Madam, was’t so long conceal’d from me?

_Qu_. The Circumstances I shall at leisure tell you: And for the present, Let it suffice, he cannot rule in _Spain_, Nor can you side with him, without being made As much incapable to reign as he.

_Card_. Though Love and Honour I have always made The Business of my Life; My Soul retains too so much of Ambition, As puts me still in mind of what I am, A Prince, and Heir to Spain: Nor shall my blinded Zeal to Loyalty, Make me that glorious Interest resign, Since _Philip’s_ Claims are not so great as mine. --Madam, tho I’m convinc’d I’ve done amiss In taking Arms for _Philip_, Yet ‘twill be difficult to disengage my self.

_Abd_. Most easily-- Proclaim it in the head of all your Troops, The Justice of your Cause for leaving him; And tell ‘em, ‘tis a Work of Piety To follow your Example. The giddy Rout are guided by Religion, More than by Justice, Reason, or Allegiance. --The Crown which I as a good Husband keep, I will lay down upon the empty Throne; Marry you the Queen, and fill it--and for me, I’ll ever pay you Duty as a Subject. [_Bows low_.

_Card_. On these Conditions all I am is yours; _Philip_ we cannot fear, all he can do Is to retire for refuge into _Portugal_.

_Abd_. That wou’d be dangerous-- Is there no Arts to get him in our Power?

_Card_. Perhaps by Policy, and seeming Friendship, For we have reason yet to fear his Force; And since I’m satisfy’d he’s not my lawful Prince, I cannot think it an Impiety To sacrifice him to the Peace of _Spain_, And every Spirit that loves Liberty: First we’ll our Forces join, and make ‘em yours, Then give me your Authority to arrest him; If so we can surprize him, we’ll spare the hazard Of a second Battel.

_Abd_. My Lord, retire into my inner Tent, And all things shall be instantly perform’d.

[_Exeunt all_.

SCENE VII. _The Grove_.

_Enter some of_ Philip’s _Party running over the Stage,
pursued by_ Philip, Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio,
_and some few Officers more_.

_Alon_. Do not pursue ‘em, Sir, such coward Slaves Deserve not Death from that illustriate Hand.

_Phil_. Eternal Plagues consume ‘em in their flight; Oh, this damn’d coward Cardinal has betray’d us! When all our Swords were nobly dy’d in Blood, When with red Sweat that trickled from our Wounds We’ad dearly earn’d the long disputed Victory, Then to lose all, then to sound base Retreat, It swells my Anger up to perfect Madness.

_Alon_. Indeed ‘twas wondrous strange.

_Sebast_. I’m glad, Sir--

_Phil_. Art glad of it? art glad we are abandon’d? That I, and thou have lost the hopeful’st Day--

_Sebast_. Great Sir, I’m glad that you came off alive.

_Phil_. Thou hast a lean Face--and a carrion Heart-- A plague upon the Moor, and thee--Oh, _Alonzo_, To run away--follow’d by all the Army! Oh, I cou’d tear my Hair, and curse my Soul to Air! --Cardinal--thou Traitor, _Judas_, that would’st sell Thy God again, as thou hast done thy Prince. --But come--we’re yet a few, And we will fight till there be left but one-- If I prove him, I’ll die a glorious death. Ant. Yes, but the Cardinal has took pious Care It shall be in our Beds.

_Sebast_. We are as bad as one already, Sir; for all our Fellows are crawl’d home, some with ne’er a Leg, others with ne’er a Arm, some with their Brains beat out, and glad they escaped so.

_Phil_. But, my dear Countrymen, you’ll stick to me.

_1 Sold_. Ay, wou’d I were well off-- [_Aside_.

_Phil_. Speak, stout _Sceva_, wilt thou not?

_1 Sold. Sceva_, Sir, who’s that?

_Phil_. A gallant _Roman_, that fought by _Caesar’s_ side, Till all his Body cover’d o’er with Arrows, Shew’d like a monstrous Porcupine.

_1 Sold_. And did he die, Sir?

_Phil_. He wou’d not but have dy’d for Caesar’s Empire.

_1 Sold_. Hah--why, Sir, I’m none of _Sceva_, but honest _Diego_, yet would as willingly die as he, but that I have a Wife and Children; and if I die they beg.

_Phil_. For every drop of Blood which thou shalt lose, I’ll give thy Wife--a Diadem.

_Sold_. Stark mad, as I am valiant!

_Enter_ Card. _Officers and Soldiers_: Philip _offers to run on
him, is held by_ Alonzo.

_Phil_. Oh Heav’n! is not that the Cardinal? Traitor, how dar’st thou tempt my Rage, and Justice?

_Card_. Your Pardon, Sir, I come in humble Love To offer happy Peace.

_Phil_. Was that thy aim when base Retreat was sounded? Oh, thou false Cardinal--let me go, _Alonzo_-- Death! offer happy Peace! no, offer War, Bring Fire and Sword--Hell and Damnation-Peace! Oh, damn your musty Peace--No, will you fight and cry, Down with the Moor! and then I’ll die in peace. I have a Heart, two Arms, a Soul, a Head, I’ll hazard these--I can but hazard all-- Come--I will kneel to thee--and be thy Slave-- [_Kneels_. I’ll let thee tread on me, do any thing, So this damn’d Moor may fall.

_Card_. Yes, Sir, he shall--

_Phil_. Gods! shall he--thy noble Hand upon’t, And for this Promise, take my grateful Heart. [_Embraces him_. --Shall _Abdelazer_ fall?

_Card_. Yes, upon thee-- Like the tall Ruins of a falling Tower, To crush thee into Dust-- [_As they embrace, the Guards seize him and the rest_. Traitor and Bastard, I arrest thee of High-Treason.

_Phil_. Hah!--Traitor!--and Bastard--and from thee!
[_They hold_ Philip’s _Hands_.

_Card_. Guards, to your Hands the Prisoner is committed. There’s your Warrant--_Alonzo_, you are free. [_Ex_. Card.

_Phil_. Prithee lend me one Hand--to wipe my Eyes, And see who ‘tis dares authorize this Warrant: --The Devil and his Dam!--the Moor and Queen! Their Warrant!--Gods! _Alonzo_, must we obey it? Villains, you cannot be my Jailors; there’s no Prison, No Dungeon deep enough; no Gate so strong, To keep a Man confin’d--so mad with Wrong. --Oh, dost thou weep, _Alonzo_?

_Alon_. I wou’d fain shed a Tear, But from my Tears so many Show’rs are gone, They are too poor to pay your Sorrow’s Tribute; There is no Remedy, we must to Prison.

_Phil_. Yes, and from thence to Death-- I thought I should have had a Tomb hung round With tatter’d Ensigns, broken Spears and Javelins; And that my Body, with a thousand Wounds, Shou’d have been borne on some triumphant Chariot, With solemn Mourning, Drums, and Trumpets sounding; Whilst all the wondring World with Grief and Envy, Had wish’d my glorious Destiny their own: But now, _Alonzo_--like a Beast I fall, And hardly Pity waits my Funeral.

[_Exeunt_.