DIE. Follow what your good pleasure will,
Good Captain Stukeley; be it far from me
To take exceptions beyond my privilege.

BISH. Yet, Captain, give me leave to speak,
We must affect our country as our parents,
And if at any time we alienate ཨ་རྣཝོརཱསུམྷཱ ཝཱ
Our love or industry from doing it honour,
It must respect effects and touch the soul,
Matter of conscience and religion,

And not desire of rule or benefit.

STUK. Well said, Bishop, spoken like yourself, .: The reverend, lordly Bishop of St. Asses.

HER. The bishop talks according to his coat,
And takes not measure of it by his mind :
You see he hath it made thus large and wide,
Because he may convert it as he list

Το any form may fit the fashion best.

BISH. Captain, you do me wrong to descant thus

Upon my coat or double conscience,

And cannot answer it in another place.

DIE. "Tis but in jest, lord bishop, put it up:

And all as friends deign to be entertain'd,
As my ability here can make provision.
Shortly shall I conduct you to the king,
Whose welcomes evermore to strangers are
Princely and honourable, as his state becomes.
STUK. Thanks, worthy governor; come, bishop,

come,

Will you show fruits of quarrel and of wrath ?
Come, let us in with my lord of Lisbon here,
And put all conscience into one carouse,

Letting it out again as we may live.*
There shall no action pass my hand or sword,
That cannot make a step to gain a crown ;
No word shall pass the office of my tongue,
That sounds not of affection to a crown;
No thought have being in my lordly breast,
That works not every way to win a crown ;
Deeds, words, and thoughts, shall all be as a king's;
My chiefest company shall be with kings;
And my deserts shall counterpoise a king's:
Why should not I then look to be a king?
I am the Marquis now of Ireland made,
And will be shortly king of Ireland:
King of a mole-hill + had I rather be,
Than the richest subject of a monarchy:

Huff it, brave mind, and never cease t'aspire,

Before thou reign sole king of thy desire. [Exeunt.

Enter the MOOR, with CALIPOLIS his wife, MULY MAHAMET his son, and two others.

MOOR. Where art thou, boy, where is Calipolis?
O deadly wound that passeth by mine eye,
The fatal prison of my swelling heart!

O fortune constant in unconstancy !
Fight, earthquakes, in the entrails of the earth,
And, eastern whirlwinds, in the hellish shades.
Some foul contagion of the infected heaven

as we may live] i. e. as we may be live or lief,—i. e. willing, inclined.

† King of a mole-hill, &c.] So he told Elizabeth :-See prefatory matter to this play, p. 82.

Blast all the trees, and in their cursed tops
The dismal night-raven and tragic owl
Breed and become fore-tellers* of my fall,
The fatal ruin of my name and me.
Adders and serpents hiss at my disgrace,
And wound the earth with anguish of their stings:
Now Abdilmelec, now triumph in Fesse,

Fortune hath made thee king of Barbary.

CALIP. Alas, my lord! what boot these huge exclaims

To advantage us in this distrest estate?

O, pity our perplext estate, my lord,
And turn all curses to submiss complaints,
And those complaints to actions of relief!

I faint, my lord, and naught may cursing plaints
Refresh the fading substance of my life.

MOOR. Faint all the world, consume and be accurst,

Since my state faints and is accurst.

CALIP. Yet patience, lord, to conquer sorrows so. MOOR. What patience is for him that lacks his \ crown?

There is no patience where the loss is such :

The shame of my disgrace hath put on wings,

And swiftly flies about this earthly ball.

Car'st thou to live then, fond ‡ Calipolis,

*fore-tellers] Ben Jonson, who in the fourth act of his Poetaster, quotes in ridicule some lines from this speech, "fore-runners."See Gifford's edition, vol. ii. p. 463.

boot] Old copy "boots."

fond] i. e. foolish.

When he that should give essence to thy soul,
He on whose glory all thy joy should stay,
Is soul-less, glory-less, and desperate,
Crying for battle, famine, sword, and fire,
Rather than calling for relief or life?
But be content, thy hunger shall have end;
Famine shall pine to death, and thou shalt live:
I will go hunt these cursed solitaries,

And make the sword and target here my hound
To pull down lions and untamed beasts. [Exit.
THE MOOR'S SON. Tush, mother, cherish your
unhearty soul,

And feed with hope of happiness and ease;
For if by valour, or by policy,

My kingly father can be fortunate,

We shall be Jove's commanders once again,
And flourish in a three-fold happiness.

ZAREO. His majesty hath sent Sebastian,
The good and harmless King of Portugal,
A promise to resign the royalty
And kingdom of Morocco to his hands;
And when this haughty offer takes effect,
And works affiance in Sebastian,

My gracious lord, warn'd wisely to advise,
I doubt not but will watch occasion,

And take her fore-top by the slenderest hair, and To rid us of this miserable life.

SON. Good madam, cheer yourself, my father's

Make shew, of friendship, promise, vow, and swear,
Till by the virtue of his fair pretence,
Sebastian trusting his integrity,...

He makes himself possessor of such fruits,

As grow upon such great advantages.

CALIP. But more dishonour hangs on such misdeeds,

Than all the profit their return can bear;

*

Such secret judgments have the heavens impos'd
Upon the drooping state of Barbary,

As public merits in such lewd attempts
Have drawn with violence upon our heads.

Enter MULY MAHAMET [the Moor] with lion's flesh upon his sword.

MOOR. Hold thee, Calipolis, feed and faint no

more;

This flesh I forced from a lioness,

Meat of a princess, for a princess meet;
Learn by her noble stomach to esteem

1

Penury plenty in extremest dearth,
Who, when she saw her foragement bereft,
Pin'd not in melancholy or childish fear,
But as brave minds are strongest in extremes, ob 1
So she redoubling her former force,

Rang'd through† the woods, and rent the breeding fif yaults,

* have] Old copy here "hath," as well as in the next line