JULIANUS

Your forward valour speaks you majestical, But my dread Liege, does not your treasury Grow thin and empty? so long have you held A champion resolution against the Turk That Spain is wasted in her noble strength, On which presuming, 'tis to be supp The More is thus encouraged. Oh my Lord, that's a dangerous secret, only known To such as can divine futurities, And they with fearful prophecies predict Fatallevents to Spain, when that shall be Broke up by violence: till fate hath run Her own wasting perjod; which out stayed Auspiciously they promise, that wreathes are kept In the foredooming Court of destiny, To bind us ever in a happy conquest. This honour which your Majesty has given me, Though better it might fit another's wearing, Of abler limbs, wheretime has not defaced, Nor half so many winter's quenched his blood, As a new spring it hath revivde ag This Autumn of my years; there's but one care I leave behind me within the Court of Spain, My poor Jacinta, mine, and only mine; May she here thrive in honour, and in favours, And I shall meet her with a victory, (Heaven put before) as shall endow us both In your high esteem. My heart and tongue, thus sentence to my fate, In honour thrive, in baseness ruinate. No more, no more, thy fears are all follies, my Jacinta Antonio? what unplumed? you are a Soldier Sir, And Soldiers should be forward; look ye I have bright steel for the black Africans; I tell you Sir, I went not with more joy Unto my maiden Bride, that Hymen night, From whence I fetched this jewel of my heart, Then now I do unto my second nuptials. O it's a gallant Mistress, and old man Is young again at sighed of her. Tush, we limit time to her best haste, Three days will be the most, the longer stay Looses the more advantage. Farewell Antonio, I'm in haste too, my preparations call me. Th'art a clog to me, Me thinks thou shouldst be reading over new fashions, Conferring with your Tirewoman for fair dressings, Your Jeweller has new devices for ye, Fine labels for your ears, bracelets for wrists, Such as will illustrate your white hand; These are all Pedlars beware to me, Jacinta; I am for Corslets, Helmets, Bills, Bows, and Pikes, The thundering Guns, Trumpets tan tara, The rattling sheepskin, and the whistling Fife: What Music's this to your ears? would, farewell, Farewell, and heaven bless thee. It's treason that thou speakest, and by the Saint Of Spain, mend it, or I'll discover thee: Wrong my dread Liege, my King, my Sovereign, To say that he should dote upon your face, Away, away, it's but your beauty's pride, So to belie it self thou art not fair, Thou hast no eye to attract Majesty, To look upon't; say he speak love to thee, 'Twas but to try thee, perhaps 'twas my consent, Will you inquire the hidden hearts of Kings? He would not wrong thee for his kingdoms wealth, Even for my sake, away you wanton fool. There has been chased Ladies, remember Lucres: I'll hear no more, my time and haste hath barred me, My blessing take, heaven and that shall guard thee. Not the messenger returned from the Castle With answer from All z ? Worthy All za you must help your wishes Ere they can take effect, your approved arm Will be a good assistant, but I pray Sir, How have you kept your Castle so unbruised? That foe not far distant, have you not taken Nor given? no sallying forth, no buffetting? Good spirit yffaith; Even such a soldier have I left behind, I had much ado to keep her from the field, Poor Jaci a, had I known such a sworn sister for her I should almost have given her leave. So, so, to her batchelloure, Antonio, L zarelle, M di , Come All z , You and I must more seriously upon our war intend munts. We are in readiness, our Counsels broke, Advice must be all blows, Lady to your hold, And at advantage, see what these youths will do; To gain your love, nobly for Spain speak dru , And if they call, answer for us, they come. Antonio, now by the Saint of Spain You have made your self remarkable to day, Valour, exceeding valour, was not looked for Which you have shown to day. One Mully we have taken, If Mumen fly not, he's his fellow-captive. Medina, post to king Roderiqus, do thus and thus, Tell our royal Master what work we have done him: You see and know, and it need no relation, Here are royal prisoners. As in captivity we wish our selves. As from the king We shall receive: as his pleasure returns us, Mean time you shall have cause to blame Your Fortune's, not your conq ours, where's The best deserver of this days honour. Not wounded, is her So we are all, Now we have time to rest, and get new breath, We conquer to the life, and not to death. THat I should ten leagues be in scorn remov'de From Court unto my continued ntrey house! for what? 'Tis very strange; know you the cause? I cry you mercy Sir, and my king mercy, And I beshrew my ho ghts for be g troubled. I know the canst my self, his gr ce is wise, For seeing me on a of , So eye-able to the world, the slaves, The multitude in their loud be g voice , Might add so much to me Sir, as might dim His own proper , for such see The present , , or , He gives me saf ty , Himself much worth and honour, for Sir, what honour Can subjects have, but is Endue heir Crown , , I do app , Would? my prisoners? go somewhat further, Sir, I befe the this day Your self into our nobly , The go the oo This very night swer and conf r e What he command . You shall, I pray be merry with us: Command worser he Counterfeit my prisoners nt for! 'Tis strange; o my forgetful m ry! I did not ask how my : But she forgets too, minds not me her father, We'll mix they both together, but my prisoners! If any soldier has done violence to her, Beyond our military discipline, Death shall divide him from us, Fetch he in. I have my self a daugh , on whose face But thinking, I must ne worser be pitiful: And when I would told my conquest to my king, My poor girl then shall know, how for her sake I did one pious act; is this the creature! Leave us: a sad one! The down-c loo , calls up comp ssion in me, A Coarse going to the gr e looks not more deadly, Why kneelst thou! art thou wrongde by any soldier! Rise, for this honour is not endue to me. Hast not a tongue to read thy sorrows out! This book I understand not. Thy father? who has wronged him? Under me! Above me? whose above a General? None but the General of all Spain's Armies, And thats the king, king R worser icke; he's all goodness. He cannot wrong thy father. A king, and yet a isher. Prithee be plain. If I have not, I am the wretchedest man That this day lives: for all the wealth I have Lives in that child. Rise then, and speak they. And so they do, For while I see thee kneeling, I think of my Jacinta. Oh 'tis too hard a question to resolve, Without a solemn Council held within Of men best understanding faculties: There must be love, and fatherhood, and grief, And rage, and many passion, and they must all Beget a thing called vengeance; but they must fit upon't. We should fallen out. I know not that. Impossible: acts ignoble, the Be can breed No poison, though it suck the juice of hemlock. Augment it rather. Who has sent A fury in this foul-fair shape to vex me? I would seen that face me thinks, yet know it not: How darest thou speak this treason, gainst my king? Durst any man it world, bring me this lie, By this, had been in hell; Rodoricke a Tarquin? Would? The king thy ravisher! o unkingly found: He dares not sure, yet in thy sullied eyes I read a Tragic story. Oh noble friends, Our wars are ended, are they not? But Spain has now begun a civil war. And to confound me only: see you my daughter? She sounds the Trumpet, which draws forth my sword To be revenged. Daughter, deer daughter. To ask thee pardon that I did beget thee, I brought thee to a shame stains all the way Betwixt earth and Acheron: not all the clouds (The skies large canopy) could they drown the S With a perpetual inundation, Can wash it ever out, leave me I pray. It a good Doctor that prescrib'de that physic I'll be your patient Sir, show me my soldiers, And my new honours wone, I will truly weigh them, With my full griefs, they may perhaps oh come. Jacinta welcome, thou art my child still, No forced stain of lust can alienate Our consanguinity. Mistake me not, my child, I am not mad, Nor must be idle; for it were more fit, (If I could purchase more) I had more wit, To help in these designs, I am grown old: Yet I have found more strength within this arm, Then without proof I durst would boasted on. Roderick thou king of monsters couldst thou do this? And for thy lust confine me from the Court, There reason in thy shame, thou shouldst not see me. Would! they come Jacinta, they come, hark, hark, Now thou shalt see what cause I have given my king: Stand, pray stand all, deliver me my prisoners: So well, wondrous well, I have no friends But these my enemies, yet welcome brave Moors, With you le parley; first I defle you all. I am a vowed for to your King, to Rod rique. Nay we fear you not, here's our whole army; Yet we are strong enough from fear or flight. you y Judges whom I make my foes? Was my power placed above my mercy, or mercy Above my power? went they not hand in hand? Why then should Rod rique do this base deed? Behold this child of mine, this only mine, I had a daughter, be she is ravished now. Yes, by Rod rique, by , Tyre , Rod rique: Join with me noble Spaniard in Revenge. Have I your hearts? Then Prince y , here I free thee, And all thy valiant Moors: Wilt thou call back Thy scattered forces, and incorporate Their strengths with mine, and with me march through Spain, Sharpening thy sword with vengeance for my wrong ? I'll not compel her heart, woe e, win, and wed her: Forced has she been too much,—My honoured friends, What We all thought to would born home in Triumph, Must now be seen there in a Funeral, Wracked Honour being chief Mourner; here's the Hearse Which weel all follow;— Roderique we come, To give thy lust a scourge, thy life a doom. What wilt thou monster? Traitor? For thee (ingrateful, villainous More) I have, I have deserved to die, but not by thee, And I beseech thee, bloody Tyrant, hasten My punishment. 'Tis now full glory to thee, to strike h Set the black character of death upon Give me a sentence horrid as thy self art, Speak in thy barbarous language, thy last doom, A tyrants Axe sends me oh a st home. Oh spare her tyrant. By her offence and wrong thou hast aspired, Then tread not on her virtues, enough That I do suffer for the good I did To set thy above my head: O spare my child. 'Tis night with me for ever, where' this ty ant? Turn me but to him, and from that see darkened eyes I shall discover his Cymerian face, For though all is dark, yet still that's visible, And nothing else to me; see ran here vil , Look what a bloody pageant thou hast made; I borrow eyes to guide me of my child, And her I'll lend a tongue to curse thee with. Thou l est at misery. 'Tis well, thou givest a gr e my for , Yet wherefore shouldst thou glory in't? this work Is none of thine, 'tis heavens merciful justice, For thou ar but the , The master , and that see That did these bloody upon' , Thy second slaves, and yet I more deserve, I was a tram to to my lawful King, And though my w cked on , I had no warrant signed for my revenge, 'Tis the peoples sins that makes Tyre n King , And such was ne for thee, now I obey, But my affliction teaches too On bloody her, up my . Thou art good in that , and no . Thoul't hurt my pen ence, for I shall bless All the ill deeds I have done for thee, In this so noble end, One thing more of , be a prophet to me first, For thou knowest what shall become of my poor Jacinta, What end to her . Oh it noble be, and honourable; Her life has had strokes of ; O let her end be sp g. I for her that has no tongue to beg, And what my saint yielding breath, Shall all be spent in blessings over thee: Farewell Jacinta, take my latest blessing, I know thy soul returns a thanks to me, Make haste to overtake me, if thou be'st stayed, Think of Cl patra and Brutus wife, There's many ways to end a weary life. Thur I come, Thy death I'll venture, but receive mine own, So, I have my doom, and I have hit too. Laughest then any ed then. False villain, hast thou then so mocked my woes, To make me fatal butcher of my child? W she the target to defend thy body? Forgive me my Jacinta, 'twas in me And innocent act of blood, but tyranny In that black monster: it's not much ill, Better my hand then a worse arm should spill Thy guiltless life; what art thou going yet? Thy warm blood cools, my sun begins to set, Nature shrinks backward to her former forms, Our souls climb stars, while these descend to worms. See tyrant, from thy further strokes we fly, Heaven do thy will, I will not cursing die.