Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BATTLE OF ALCAZAR, by GEORGE PEELE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BATTLE OF ALCAZAR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Honor, the spur that pricks the princely mind
Last Line: Here endeth the tragical battle of alcazar.
Subject(s): Alcazar, Battle Of (1578); Sebastian. King Of Portugal (1554-1578); Stucley, Thomas (1525-1578); Stukely, Thomas


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

The Moor, MULY MAHAMET.
MULY MAHAMET, his son.
ABDELMELEC, uncle to the Moor, MULY MAHAMET.
MULY MAHAMET SETH, brother to ABDELMELEC.
Son of RUBIN ARCHIS.
ABDEL RAYES.
CELYBIN.
ARGERD ZAREO.
ZAREO.
PISANO, a captain to the Moor, MULY MAHAMET.
CALSEPIUS BASSA.
SEBASTIAN, King of Portugal.
DUKE OF AVERO.
DUKE OF BARCELES.
LORD LODOWICK.
LEWES DE SILVA.
CHRISTOPHERO DE TAVERA.
DON DIEGO LOPEZ, Governor of Lisbon.
DON DE MENYSIS, Governor of Tangier.
STUKELEY.
Irish Bishop.
HERCULES.
JONAS.
Moorish Ambassadors, Spanish Ambassadors and Legate, Boy, Soldiers, Messengers,
&c.

CALIPOLIS, wife to the Moor, MULY MAHAMET.
RUBIN ARCHIS, widow of ABDELMUNEN.
A Queen.
Ladies.

The Presenter.} In the Dumb-shows.
ABDELMUNEN.} In the Dumb-shows.
Two young Brothers of the Moor, MULY MAHAMET.} In the Dumb-shows.
Two Murderers.} In the Dumb-shows.
Fame.} In the Dumb-shows.

ACT I.

Enter the Presenter.

HONOUR, the spur that pricks the princely mind
To follow rule and climb the stately chair,
With great desire inflames the Portingal,
An honourable and courageous king,
To undertake a dangerous dreadful war,
And aid with Christian arms the barbarous Moor,
The negro Muly Hamet, that withholds
The kingdom from his uncle Abdelmelec,
Whom proud Abdallas wrong'd,
And in his throne installs his cruel son,
That now usurps upon this prince,
This brave Barbarian lord, Muly Mollocco.
The passage to the crown by murder made,
Abdallas dies, and leaves this tyrant king;
Of whom we treat, sprung from th' Arabian Moor,
Black in his look, and bloody in his deeds;
And in his shirt, stain'd with a cloud of gore,
Presents himself, with naked sword in hand,
Accompanied, as now you may behold,
With devils coated in the shapes of men.

The First Dumb-show.

Enter [the Moor] MULY MAHAMET, his Son, and his two young Brethren:
the Moor [MULY MAHAMET] shows them the bed, and then takes his leave of them,
and they betake them to their rest. Then the Presenter speaks;

Like those that were by kind of murder mumm'd,
Sit down and see what heinous stratagems
These damnèd wits contrive; and, lo, alas,
How like poor lambs prepar'd for sacrifice,
This traitor-king hales to their longest home
These tender lords, his younger brethren both!

The Second Dumb-show.

Enter the Moor [MULY MAHAMET], and two Murderers, bringing in his
uncle ABDELMUNEN: then they draw the curtains, and smother the young Princes
in the bed: which done in sight of the uncle, they strangle him in his chair,
and then go forth. Then the Presenter says;

His brethren thus in fatal bed behears'd,
His father's brother, of too light belief,
This negro puts to death by proud command.
Say not these things are feign'd, for true they are;
And understand how, eager to enjoy
His father's crown, this unbelieving Moor,
Murdering his uncle and his brethren,
Triumphs in his ambitious tyranny;
Till Nemesis, high mistress of revenge,
That with her scourge keeps all the world in awe,
With thundering drum awakes the God of War,
And calls the Furies from Avernus' crags,
To range and rage, and vengeance to inflict,
Vengeance on this accursèd Moor for sin.
And now behold how Abdelmelec comes,
Uncle to this unhappy traitor-king,
Arm'd with great aid that Amurath hath sent,
Great Amurath, Emperor of the East,
For service done to Sultan Solimon,
Under whose colours he had serv'd in field,
Flying the fury of this negro's father,
That wrong'd his brethren to install his son.
Sit you, and see this true and tragic war,
A modern matter full of blood and ruth,
Where three bold kings, confounded in their height,
Fell to the earth, contending for a crown;
And call this war The battle of Alcazar.
[Exit.

SCENE I.

Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter ABDELMELEC, CALSEPIUS BASSA and
his Guard, and ARGERD ZAREO, with Soldiers.

Abdelm. All hail, Argerd Zareo; and, ye Moors,
Salute the frontiers of your native home:
Cease, rattling drums; and, Abdelmelec, here
Throw up thy trembling hands to heaven's throne,
Pay to thy God due thanks, and thanks to him
That strengthens thee with mighty gracious arms
Against the proud usurper of thy right,
The royal seat and crown of Barbary,
Great Amurath, great Emperor of the East:
The world bear witness how I do adore
The sacred name of Amurath the Great.
Calsepius Bassa, Bassa Calsepius,
To thee, and to thy trusty band of men
That carefully attend us in our camp,
Pick'd soldiers, comparable to the guard
Of Myrmidons that kept Achilles' tent,
Such thanks we give to thee and to them all,
As may concern a poor distressèd king,
In honour and in princely courtesy.
Cal. Bas. Courteous and honourable Abdelmelec,
We are not come, at Amurath's command,
As mercenary men, to serve for pay,
But as sure friends, by our great master sent
To gratify and to remunerate
Thy love, thy loyalty, and forwardness,
Thy service in his father's dangerous war;
And to perform, in view of all the world,
The true office of right and royalty:
To see thee in thy kingly chair enthron'd,
To settle and to seat thee in the same,
To make thee Emperor of this Barbary,
Are come the viceroys and sturdy janizaries
Of Amurath, son to Sultan Solimon.

Enter MULY MAHAMET SETH, RUBIN ARCHIS, ABDEL RAYES, with others.

Abd. Rayes. Long live my lord, the sovereign of my heart,
Lord Abdelmelec, whom the god of kings,
The mighty Amurath hath happy made!
And long live Amurath for this good deed!
Muly Mah. Seth. Our Moors have seen the silver moons to wave
In banners bravely spreading o'er the plain,
And in these semicircles have descried,
All in a golden field, a star to rise,
A glorious comet that begins to blaze,
Promising happy sorting to us all.
Rub. Ar. Brave man-at-arms, whom Amurath hath sent
To sow the lawful true-succeeding seed
In Barbary, that bows and groans withal
Under a proud usurping tyrant's mace,
Right thou the wrongs this rightful king hath borne.
Abdelm. Distressèd ladies, and ye dames of Fess,
Sprung from the true Arabian Muly Xarif,
The loadstar and the honour of our line,
Now clear your watery eyes, wipe tears away,
And cheerfully give welcome to these arms:
Amurath hath sent scourges by his men,
To whip that tyrant traitor-king from hence,
That hath usurp'd from us, and maim'd you all.
Soldiers, sith rightful quarrels' aid
Successful are, and men that manage them
Fight not in fear as traitors and their feres,
That you may understand what arms we bear,
What lawful arms against our brother's son,
In sight of heaven, even of mine honour's worth,
Truly I will deliver and discourse
The sum of all. Descended from the line
Of Mahomet, our grandsire Muly Xarif
With store of gold and treasure leaves Arabia,
And strongly plants himself in Barbary;
And of the Moors that now with us do wend
Our grandsire Muly Xarif was the first.
From him well wot ye Muly Mahamet Xeque,
Who in his life-time made a perfect law,
Confirm'd with general voice of all his peers,
That in his kingdom should successively
His sons succeed. Abdallas was the first,
Eldest of four, Abdelmunen the second,
And we the rest, my brother and myself.
Abdallas reign'd his time: but see the change!
He labours to invest his son in all,
To disannul the law our father made,
And disinherit us his brethren;
And in his life-time wrongfully proclaims
His son for king that now contends with us.
Therefore I crave to re-obtain my right,
That Muly Mahamet the traitor holds,
Traitor and bloody tyrant both at once,
That murderèd his younger brethren both:
But on this damnèd wretch, this traitor-king,
The gods shall pour down showers of sharp revenge.
And thus a matter not to you unknown
I have deliver'd; yet for no distrust
Of loyalty, my well-belovèd friends,
But that th' occasions fresh in memory
Of these encumbers so may move your minds,
As for the lawful true-succeeding prince
Ye neither think your lives nor honours dear,
Spent in a quarrel just and honourable.
Cal. Bas. Such and no other we repute the cause
That forwardly for thee we undertake,
Thrice-puissant and renownèd Abdelmelec,
And for thine honour, safety, and crown,
Our lives and honours frankly to expose
To all the dangers that on war attend,
As freely and as resolutely all
As any Moor whom thou commandest most.
Muly Mah, Seth. And why is Abdelmelec, then, so slow
To chástise him with fury of the sword
Whose pride doth swell to sway beyond his reach?
Follow this pride, then, with fury of revenge.
Rub. Ar. Of death, of blood, of wreak, and deep revenge,
Shall Rubin Archis frame her tragic songs:
In blood, in death, in murder, and misdeed,
This heaven's malice did begin and end.
Abdelm. Rubin, these rites to Abdelmunen's ghost
Have pierc'd by this to Pluto's grave below;
The bells of Pluto ring revenge amain,
The Furies and the fiends conspire with thee.
War bids me draw my weapons for revenge
Of my deep wrongs and my dear brother's death.
Muly Mah. Seth. Sheath not your swords, you soldiers of Amurath,
Sheath not your swords, you Moors of Barbary,
That fight in right of your anointed king,
But follow to the gates of death and hell,
Pale death and hell, to entertain his soul;
Follow, I say, to burning Phlegethon,
This traitor-tyrant and his companies.
Cal. Bas. Heave up your swords against these stony holds,
Wherein these barbarous rebels are enclos'd:
Call'd for is Abdelmelec by the gods
To sit upon the throne of Barbary.
Abd. Rayes. Bassa, great thanks, thou honour of the Turks.—
Forward, brave lords, unto this rightful war!
How can this battle but successful be,
Where courage meeteth with a rightful cause?
Rub. Ar. Go in good time, my best-belovèd lord,
Successful in thy work thou undertakes!
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter, in his chariot, the Moor, CALIPOLIS, and their Son; PISANO with
the Moor's Guard and treasure.

The Moor. Pisano, take a cornet of our horse,
As many argolets and armèd pikes,
And with our carriage march away before
By Scyras, and those plots of ground
That to Moroccus lead the lower way:
Our enemies keep upon the mountain-tops,
And have encamp'd themselves not far from Fess.—
Madam,
Gold is the glue, sinews, and strength of war,
And we must see our treasure may go safe.—
Away! [Exit PISANO with the treasure and some of the Guard.] Now, boy,
what's the news?
The Moor's Son. The news, my lord, is war, war and revenge;
And, if I shall declare the circumstance,
'Tis thus.
Rubin, our uncle's wife, that wrings her hands
For Abdelmunen's death, accompanied
With many dames of Fess in mourning weeds,
Near to Argier encounter'd Abdelmelec,
That bends his force, puff'd up with Amurath's aid,
Against your holds and castles of defence.
The younger brother, Muly Mahamet Seth,
Greets the great Bassa that the King of Turks
Sends to invade your right and royal realm;
And basely beg revenge, arch-rebels all,
To be inflict upon our progeny.
The Moor. Why, boy, is Amurath's Bassa such a bug
That he is mark'd to do this doughty deed?
Then, Bassa, lock the winds in wards of brass,
Thunder from heaven, damn wretched men to death,
Bear all the offices of Saturn's sons,
Be Pluto, then, in hell, and bar the fiends,
Take Neptune's force to thee and calm the seas,
And execute Jove's justice on the world,
Convey Tamburlaine into our Afric here,
To chástise and to menace lawful kings:
Tamburlaine, triumph not, for thou must die,
As Philip did, Cæsar, and Cæsar's peers.
The Moor's Son. The Bassa grossly flatter'd to his face,
And Amurath's praise advanc'd above the sound
Upon the plains, the soldiers being spread,
And that brave guard of sturdy janizaries
That Amurath to Abdelmelec gave,
And bade him boldly be with them as safe
As if he slept within a wallèd town;
Who take them to their weapons, threatening revenge,
Bloody revenge, bloody revengeful war.
The Moor. Away, and let me hear no more of this.
Why, boy,
Are we successor to the great Abdelmunen
Descended from th' Arabian Muly Xarif,
And shall we be afraid of Bassas and of bugs,
Raw-head and Bloody-bone?
Boy, seest here this scimitar by my side?
Sith they begin to bathe in blood,
Blood be the theme whereon our time shall tread;
Such slaughter with my weapon shall I make
As through the stream and bloody channels deep
Our Moors shall sail in ships and pinnaces
From Tangier-shore unto the gates of Fess.
The Moor's Son. And of those slaughter'd bodies shall thy son
A hugy tower erect like Nimrod's frame,
To threaten those unjust and partial gods
That to Abdallas' lawful seed deny
A long, a happy, and triumphant reign.

An alarum within, and then enter a Messenger

Mess. Fly, King of Fess, King of Moroccus, fly,
Fly with thy friends, Emperor of Barbary;
O, fly the sword and fury of the foe,
That rageth as the ramping lioness
In rescue of her younglings from the bear!
Thy towns and holds by numbers basely yield,
Thy land to Abdelmelec's rule resigns,
Thy carriage and thy treasure taken is
By Amurath's soldiers, that have sworn thy death:
Fly Amurath's power and Abdelmelec's threats,
Or thou and thine look here to breathe your last.
The Moor. Villain, what dreadful sound of death and flight
Is this wherewith thou dost afflict our ears?
But if there be no safety to abide
The favour, fortune, and success of war,
Away in haste! roll on, my chariot-wheels,
Restless till I be safely set in shade
Of some unhaunted place, some blasted grove
Of deadly yew or dismal cypress-tree,
Far from the light or comfort of the sun,
There to curse heaven and he that heaves me hence;
To sick as Envy at Cecropia's gate,
And pine with thought and terror of mishaps:
Away!
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

Alarum within, and then enter the Presenter.

Now war begins his rage and ruthless reign,
And Nemesis, with bloody whip in hand,
Thunders for vengeance on this Negro-Moor;
Nor may the silence of the speechless night,
Dire architect of murders and misdeeds,
Of tragedies and tragic tyrannies,
Hide or contain the barbarous cruelty
Of this usurper to his progeny.
[Three Ghosts, within, cry "Vindicta!"
Hark, lords, as in a hollow place afar,
The dreadful shrieks and clamours that resound,
And sound revenge upon this traitor's soul,
Traitor to kin and kind, to gods and men!
Now Nemesis upon her doubling drum,
Mov'd with this ghastly moan, this sad complaint,
'Larums aloud into Alecto's ears,
And with her thundering wakes, whereas they lie
In cave as dark as hell and beds of steel,
The Furies, just imps of dire revenge.
"Revenge," cries Abdelmunen's grievèd ghost,
And rouseth with the terror of this noise
These nymphs of Erebus; "Wreak and revenge"
Ring out the souls of his unhappy brethren.
And now start up these torments of the world,
Wak'd with the thunder of Rhamnusia's drum
And fearful echoes of these grievèd ghosts,—
Alecto with her brand and bloody torch,
Megæra with her whip and snaky hair,
Tisiphone with her fatal murdering iron:
These three conspire, these three complain and moan.
Thus, Muly Mahamet, is a council held
To wreak the wrongs and murders thou hast done.
By this imagine was this barbarous Moor
Chas'd from his dignity and his diadem,
And lives forlorn among the mountain-shrubs,
And makes his food the flesh of savage beasts.
Amurath's soldiers have by this install'd
Good Abdelmelec in his royal seat.
The dames of Fess and ladies of the land,
In honour of the son of Solimon,
Erect a statue made of beaten gold,
And sing to Amurath songs of lasting praise.
Muly Mahamet's fury over-rul'd,
His cruelty controll'd, and pride rebuk'd,
Now at last when sober thoughts renew'd
Care of his kingdom and desirèd crown,
The aid that once was offer'd and refus'd
By messengers he furiously implores,
Sebastian's aid, brave King of Portugal.
He, forward in all arms and chivalry,
Hearkens to his ambassadors, and grants
What they in letters and by words entreat.
Now listen, lordings, now begins the game,
Sebastian's tragedy in this tragic war.
[Exit.

SCENE I.

Alarum within, and then enter ABDELMELEC, MULY MAHAMET SETH, CALSEPIUS
BASSA, with Moors and Janizaries.

Abdelm. Now hath the sun display'd his golden beams,
And, dusky clouds dispers'd, the welkin clears,
Wherein the twenty-colour'd rainbow shows.
After this fight happy and fortunate,
Wherein our [traitorous] Moors have lost the day,
And Victory, adorn'd with Fortune's plumes,
Alights on Abdelmelec's glorious crest,
Here find we time to breathe, and now begin
To pay thy due and duties thou dost owe
To heaven and earth, to gods and Amurath.
[Sound trumpets.
And now draw near, and heaven and earth give ear,
Give ear and record, heaven and earth, with me;
Ye lords of Barbary, hearken and attend,
Hark to the words I speak, and vow I make
To plant the true succession of the crown:
Lo, lords, in our seat royal to succeed
Our only brother here we do install,
And by the name of Muly Mahamet Seth
Intitle him true heir unto the crown.
Ye gods of heaven gratulate this deed,
That men on earth may therewith stand content!
Lo, thus my due and duties do I pay
To heaven and earth, to gods and Amurath!
[Sound trumpets.
Muly Mah. Seth. Renownèd Bassa, to remunerate
Thy worthiness and magnanimity,
Behold, the noblest ladies of the land
Bring present tokens of their gratitude.

Enter RUBIN ARCHIS, her Son, a Queen, and Ladies.

Rub. Ar. Rubin, that breathes but for revenge,
Bassa, by this commends herself to thee;
Receive the token of her thankfulness:
To Amurath the god of earthly kings
Doth Rubin give and sacrifice her son:
Not with sweet smoke of fire or sweet perfume,
But with his father's sword, his mother's thanks,

Doth Rubin give her son to Amurath.
Queen. As Rubin gives her son, so we ourselves
To Amurath give, and fall before his face.
Bassa, wear thou the gold of Barbary,
And glister like the palace of the Sun,
In honour of the deed that thou hast done.
Cal. Bas. Well worthy of the aid of Amurath
Is Abdelmelec, and these noble dames.—
Rubin, thy son I shall ere long bestow,
Where thou dost him bequeath in honour's fee,
On Amurath mighty Emperor of the East,
That shall receive the imp of royal race
With cheerful looks and gleams of princely grace.—
This chosen guard of Amurath's janizaries
I leave to honour and attend on thee,
King of Morocco, conqueror of thy foes,
True King of Fess, Emperor of Barbary;
Muly Molocco, live and keep thy seat,
In spite of fortune's spite or enemies' threats.—
Ride, Bassa, now, bold Bassa, homeward ride,
As glorious as great Pompey in his pride.
[Exeunt
SCENE II.

Enter DON DIEGO LOPEZ, the Irish Bishop, STUKELEY, JONAS, HERCULES,
and others.

Die. Welcome to Lisbon, valiant Catholics,
Welcome, brave Englishmen, to Portugal:
Most reverent primate of the Irish church,
And, noble Stukeley, famous by thy name,
Welcome, thrice-welcome to Sebastian's town;
And welcome, English captains, to you all:
It joyeth us to see his Holiness' fleet
Cast anchor happily upon our coast.
Bish. These welcomes, worthy governor of Lisbon,
Argue an honourable mind in thee,
But treat of our misfortune therewithal.
To Ireland by Pope Gregory's command
Were we all bound, and therefore thus embark'd,
To land our forces there at unawares,
Conquering the island for his Holiness,
And so restore it to the Roman faith:
This was the cause of our expedition,
And Ireland long ere this had been subdu'd,
Had not foul weather brought us to this bay.
Die. Under correction, are ye not all Englishmen,
And 'longs not Ireland to that kingdom, lords?
Then, may I speak my conscience in the cause
Sans scandal to the holy see of Rome,
Unhonourable is this expedition,
And misbeseeming you to meddle in.
Stuke. Lord governor of Lisbon, understand,
As we are Englishmen, so are we men,
And I am Stukeley so resolv'd in all
To follow rule, honour, and empery,
Not to be bent so strictly to the place
Wherein at first I blew the fire of life,
But that I may at liberty make choice
Of all the continents that bound the world;
For why I make it not so great desert
To be begot or born in any place,
Sith that's a thing of pleasure and of ease
That might have been perform'd elsewhere as well.
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
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.
Stuke. Well said, bishop! spoken like yourself,
The reverend, lordly Bishop of Saint Asses.
Herc. 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,
To 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.
Stuke. Thanks, worthy governor.--Come, bishop, come,
Will you show fruits of quarrel and of wrath?
Come, let's in with my Lord of Lisbon here,
And put all conscience into one carouse,
Letting it out again as we may live.
[Exeunt all except STUKELEY.
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.
[Exit.

SCENE III.

Enter the Moor, CALIPOLIS, their Son, ZAREO, and another.

The Moor. Where art thou, boy? Where is Calipolis?
O deadly wound that passeth by mine eye,
The fatal poison 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 th' infected heaven
Blast all the trees, and in their cursèd 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, Abdelmelec, now triúmph in Fess;
Fortune hath made thee King of Barbary.
Calip. Alas, my lord, what boot these huge exclaims
T' advantage us in this distress'd estate?
O, pity our perplex'd 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.
The Moor. Faint all the world, consume and be accurs'd,
Since my state faints and is accurs'd.
Calip. Yet patience, lord, to conquer sorrows so.
The 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,
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 cursèd solitaries,
And make the sword and target here my hound[s]
To pull down lions and untamèd 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,
To rid us of this miserable life.
The Moor's Son. Good madam, cheer yourself: my father's wise;
He can submit himself and live below,
Make show 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.

Re-enter the Moor, with a piece of flesh upon his sword.

The Moor. Hold thee, Calipolis, feed, and faint no more;
This flesh I forcèd from a lioness,
Meat of a princess, for a princess meet:
Learn by her noble stomach to esteem
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,
So she, redoubling her former force,
Rang'd through the woods, and rent the breeding vaults
Of proudest savages to save herself.
Feed, then, and faint not, fair Calipolis;
For rather than fierce famine shall prevail
To gnaw thy entrails with her thorny teeth,
The conquering lioness shall attend on thee,
And lay huge heaps of slaughter'd carcasses,
As bulwarks in her way, to keep her back.
I will provide thee of a princely osprey,
That as she flieth over fish in pools,
The fish shall turn their glistering bellies up,

And thou shalt take thy liberal choice of all:
Jove's stately bird with wide-commanding wings
Shall hover still about thy princely head,
And beat down fowl by shoals into thy lap:
Feed, then, and faint not, fair Calipolis.
Calip. Thanks, good my lord, and though my stomach be
Too queasy to digest such bloody meat,
Yet, strength I it with virtue of my mind,
I doubt no whit but I shall live, my lord.
The Moor. Into the shades, then, fair Calipolis,
And make thy son and negroes here good cheer:
Feed and be fat, that we may meet the foe
With strength and terror, to revenge our wrong.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter KING SEBASTIAN, the DUKE OF AVERO, the DUKE OF BARCELES, LEWES
DE SILVA, CHRISTOPHERO DE TAVERA, and Attendants.

K. Seb. Call forth those Moors, those men of Barbary,
That came with letters from the King of Fess.

The Moorish Ambassadors are brought in by an Attendant.

Ye warlike lords, and men of chivalry,
Honourable ambassadors of this high regent,
Hark to Sebastian King of Portugal.
These letters sent from your distressèd lord,
Torn from his throne by Abdelmelec's hand,
Strengthen'd and rais'd by furious Amurath,
Import a kingly favour at our hands,
For aid to re-obtain his royal seat,
And place his fortunes in their former height.
For 'quital of which honourable arms,
By these his letters he doth firmly vow
Wholly to yield and to surrender up
The kingdom of Moroccus to our hands,
And to become to us contributary;
And to content himself with the realm of Fess.
These lines, my lords, writ in extremity,
Contain therefore but during fortune's date;
How shall Sebastian, then, believe the same?
First Amb. Viceroys, and most Christian king of Portugal,
To satisfy thy doubtful mind herein,
Command forthwith a blazing brand of fire
Be brought in presence of thy majesty;
Then shalt thou see, by our religious vows
And ceremonies most inviolate,
How firm our sovereign's protestations are.

A brand is brought in by an Attendant.

Behold, my lord, this binds our faith to thee:
In token that great Muly Mahamet's hand
Hath writ no more than his stout heart allows,
And will perform to thee and to thine heirs,
We offer here our hands into this flame;
And as this flame doth fasten on this flesh,
So from our souls we wish it may consume
The heart of our great lord and sovereign,
Muly Mahamet King of Barbary,
If his intent agree not with his words!
K. Seb. These ceremonies and protestations
Sufficeth us, ye lords of Barbary,
Therefore return this answer to your king:
Assure him by the honour of my crown,
And by Sebastian's true unfeignèd faith,
He shall have aid and succour to recover,
And seat him in, his former empery.
Let him rely upon our princely word:
Tell him by August we will come to him
With such a power of brave impatient minds,
As Abdelmelec and great Amurath
Shall tremble at the strength of Portugal.
First Amb. Thanks to the renownèd King of Portugal,
On whose stout promises our state depend[s].
K. Seb. Barbarians, go glad your distressèd king,
And say Sebastian lives to right his wrong.
[Exeunt Ambassadors.
Duke of Avero, call in those Englishmen,
Don Stukeley, and those captains of the fleet,
That lately landed in our bay of Lisbon.
Now breathe, Sebastian, and in breathing blow
Some gentle gale of thy new-formèd joys.
Duke of Avero, it shall be your charge
To take the muster of the Portugals,
And bravest bloods of all our country.
[Exit DUKE OF AVERO.
Lewes de Silva, you shall be despatch'd
With letters unto Philip King of Spain:
Tell him we crave his aid in this behalf;
I know our brother Philip nill deny
His futherance in this holy Christian war.
Duke of Barceles, as thy ancestors
Have always loyal been to Portugal,
So now, in honour of thy toward youth,
Thy charge shall be to Antwerp speedily,
To hire us mercenary men-at-arms:
Promise them princely pay; and be thou sure
Thy word is ours,—Sebastian speaks the word.
Christo. I beseech your majesty, employ me in this war.
K. Seb. Christopher de Tavera, next unto myself,
My good Hephæstion, and my bedfellow,
Thy cares and mine shall be alike in this,
And thou and I will live and die together.

Re-enter the DUKE OF AVERO, with the Irish Bishop, STUKELEY, JONAS,
HERCULES, and others.

And now, brave Englishmen, to you
Whom angry storms have put into our bay;
Hold not your fortune e'er the worse in this:
We hold our strangers' honours in our hand,
And for distressèd frank and free relief.
Tell me, then, Stukeley, for that's thy name I trow,
Wilt thou, in honour of thy country's fame,
Hazard thy person in this brave exploit,
And follow us to fruitful Barbary,
With these six thousand soldiers thou hast brought,
And choicely pick'd through wanton Italy?
Thou art a man of gallant personage,
Proud in thy looks, and famous every way:
Frankly tell me, wilt thou go with me?
Stuke. Courageous king, the wonder of my thoughts,
And yet, my lord, with pardon understand,
Myself and these whom weather hath enforc'd
To lie at road upon thy gracious coast,
Did bend our course and made amain for Ireland.
K. Seb. For Ireland, Stukeley, (thou mak'st me wonder much,)
With seven ships, two pinnaces, and six thousand men?
I tell thee, Stukeley, they are far too weak
To violate the Queen of Ireland's right;
For Ireland's Queen commandeth England's force.
Were every ship ten thousand on the seas,
Mann'd with the strength of all the eastern kings,
Conveying all the monarchs of the world,
T' invade the island where her highness reigns,
'Twere all in vain, for heavens and destinies
Attend and wait upon her majesty.
Sacred, imperial, and holy is her seat,
Shining with wisdom, love, and mightiness:
Nature that every thing imperfect made,
Fortune that never yet was constant found,
Time that defaceth every golden show,
Dare not decay, remove, or her impair;
Both nature, time, and fortune, all agree,
To bless and serve her royal majesty.
The wallowing ocean hems her round about;
Whose raging floods do swallow up her foes,
And on the rocks their ships in pieces split,
And even in Spain, where all the traitors dance
And play themselves upon a sunny day,
Securely guard the west part of her isle;
The south the narrow Britain-sea begirts,
Where Neptune sits in triumph to direct
Their course to hell that aim at her disgrace;
The German seas alongst the east do run,
Where Venus banquets all her water-nymphs,
That with her beauty glancing on the waves
Distains the cheek of fair Proserpina.
Advise thee, then, proud Stukeley, ere thou pass
To wrong the wonder of the highest God;
Sith danger, death, and hell do follow thee,
Thee, and them all, that seek to danger her.
If honour be the mark whereat thou aim'st,
Then follow me in holy Christian wars,
And leave to seek thy country's overthrow.
Stuke. Rather, my lord, let me admire these words,
Than answer to your firm objections.
His Holiness Pope Gregory the Seventh
Hath made us four the leaders of the rest:
Amongst the rest, my lord, I am but one;
If they agree, Stukeley will be the first
To die with honour for Sebastian.
K. Seb. Tell me, lord bishop, captains, tell me, all,
Are you content to leave this enterprise
Against your country and your countrymen,
To aid Mahamet King of Barbary?
Bish. To aid Mahamet King of Barbary,
'Tis 'gainst our vows, great King of Portugal.
K. Seb. Then, captains, what say you?
Jon. I say, my lord, as the bishop said,
We may not turn from conquering Ireland.
Herc. Our country and our countrymen will condemn
Us worthy of death, if we neglect our vows.
K. Seb. Consider, lords, you are now in Portugal,
And I may now dispose of you and yours:
Hath not the wind and weather given you up,
And made you captives at our royal will?
Jon. It hath, my lord, and willingly we yield
To be commanded by your majesty;
But if you make us voluntary men,
Our course is then direct for Ireland.
K. Seb. That course will we direct for Barbary.—
Follow me, lords: Sebastian leads the way
To plant the Christian faith in Africa.
Stuke. Saint George for England! and Ireland now adieu,
For here Tom Stukeley shapes his course anew.
[Exeunt.

ACT III.

Enter the Presenter.

Lo, thus into a lake of blood and gore
The brave courageous King of Portugal
Hath drench'd himself, and now prepares amain
With sails and oars to cross the swelling seas,
With men and ships, courage and cannon-shot,
To plant this cursèd Moor in fatal hour;
And in this Catholic cause the King of Spain
Is call'd upon by sweet Sebastian,
Who surfeiting in prime time of his youth
Upon ambitious poison, dies thereon.
By this time is the Moor to Tangier come,
A city 'longing to the Portugal;
And now doth Spain promise with holy face,
As favouring the honour of the cause,
His aid of arms, and levies men apace:
But nothing less than King Sebastian's good
He means; yet at Sucor de Tupea
He met, some say, in person with the Portugal,
And treateth of a marriage with the king:
But 'ware ambitious wiles and poison'd eyes!
There was nor aid of arms nor marriage,
For on his way without those Spaniards
King Sebastian went.
[Exit.
SCENE I.

Enter KING SEBASTIAN, Lords, LEWES DE SILVA, and the Ambassadors and
Legate of Spain.

K. Seb. Honourable lords, ambassadors of Spain,
The many favours by our meetings done
From our belovèd and renownèd brother,
Philip the Catholic King of Spain,
Say therefore, good my lord ambassador,
Say how your mighty master minded is
To propagate the fame of Portugal.
First Amb. To propagate the fame of Portugal,
And plant religious truth in Africa,
Philip the great and puissant king of Spain,
For love and honour of Sebastian's name,
Promiseth aid of arms, and swears by us
To do your majesty all the good he can,
With men, munition, and supply of war,
Of Spaniards proud, in king Sebastian's aid,
To spend their bloods in honour of their Christ.
Legate. And farther, to manifest unto your majesty
How much the Catholic king of Spain affects
This war with Moors and men of little faith,
The honour of your everlasting praise,
Behold, to honour and enlarge thy name,
He maketh offer of his daughter Isabel
To link in marriage with the brave Sebastian;
And to enrich Sebastian's noble wife,
His majesty doth promise to resign
The titles of the Islands of Moloccus,
That by his royalty in India he commands.
These favours with unfeignèd love and zeal
Voweth King Philip to King Sebastian.
K. Seb. And God so deal with King Sebastians soul
As justly he intends to fight for Christ!
Nobles of Spain, sith our renownèd brother,
Philip the king of honour and of zeal,
By you the chosen orators of Spain
The offer of the holds he makes
Are not so precious in our account,
As is the peerless dame whom we adore,
His daughter, in whose loyalty consists
The life and honour of Sebastian.
As for the aid of arms he promiseth,
We will expect and thankfully receive,
At Cadiz, as we sail alongst the coast.—
Sebastian, clap thy hands for joy,
Honourèd by this meeting and this match.–
Go, lords, and follow to the famous war
Your king; and be his fortune such in all
As he intends to manage arms in right.
[Exeunt all except STUKELEY and Another.
Stuke. Sit fast, Sebastian, and in this work
God and good men labour for Portugal!
For Spain, disguising with a double face,
Flatters thy youth and forwardness, good king.
Philip, whom some call the Catholic king,
I fear me much thy faith will not be firm,
But disagree with thy profession.
The other. What, then, shall of those men of war become,
Those numbers that do multiply in Spain?
Stuke. Spain hath a vent for them and their supplies:
The Spaniard ready to embark himself,
Here gathers to a head; but all too sure
Flanders, I fear, shall feel the force of Spain.
Let Portugal fare as he may or can,
Spain means to spend no powder on the Moors.
The other. If kings do dally so with holy oaths,
The heavens will right the wrongs that they sustain.
Philip, if these forgeries be in thee,
Assure thee, king, 'twill light on thee at last;
And when proud Spain hopes soundly to prevail,
The time may come that thou and thine shall fail.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.

Enter ABDELMELEC, MULY MAHAMET SETH, ARGERD ZAREO, and train.

Abdelm. The Portugal, led with deceiving hope,
Hath rais'd his power, and receiv'd our foe
With honourable welcomes and regard,
And left his country-bounds, and hither bends
In hope to help Mahamet to a crown,
And chase us hence, and plant this Negro-Moor,
That clads himself in coat of hammer'd steel
To heave us from the honour we possess.
But, for I have myself a soldier been,
I have, in pity to the Portugal,
Sent secret messengers to counsel him.
As for the aid of Spain, whereof they hop'd,
We have despatch'd our letters to their prince,
To crave that in a quarrel so unjust,
He that entitlèd is the Catholic king,
Would not assist a careless Christian prince.
And, as by letters we are let to know,
Our offer of the seven holds we made
He thankfully receives with all conditions,
Differing in mind [as] far from all his words
And promises to King Sebastian,
As we would wish, or you, my lords, desire.
Ar. Zareo. What resteth, then, but Abdelmelec may
Beat back this proud invading Portugal,
And chástise this ambitious Negro-Moor
With thousand deaths for thousand damnèd deeds?
Abdelm. Forward, Zareo, and ye manly Moors!—
Sebastian, see in time unto thyself:
If thou and thine misled do thrive amiss,

Guiltless is Abdelmelec of thy blood.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter DON DE MENYSIS, with Captains and others.

De Men. Captain[s],
We have receivèd letters from the king,
That with such signs and arguments of love
We entertain the King of Barbary,
That marcheth toward Tangier with his men,
The poor remainders of those that fled from Fess,
When Abdelmelec got the glorious day,
And stall'd himself in his imperial throne.
First Cap. Lord governor, we are in readiness
To welcome and receive this hapless king,
Chas'd from his land by angry Amurath;
And if the right rest in this lusty Moor,
Bearing a princely heart unvanquishable,
A noble resolution then it is
In brave Sebastian our Christian king,
To aid this Moor with his victorious arms,
Thereby to propagate religious truth,
And plant his springing praise in Africa.
Sec. Cap. But when arrives this brave Sebastian,
To knit his forces with this manly Moor,
That both in one, and one in both, may join
In this attempt of noble consequence?
Our men of Tangier long to see their king,
Whose princely face, that's like the summer's sun,
Glads all these hither parts of Barbary.
De Men. Captains, he cometh hitherward amain,
Top and top-gallant, all in brave array:
The twenty-sixth day of June he left
The bay of Lisbon, and with all his fleet
At Cadiz happily he arriv'd in Spain
The eighth of July, tarrying for the aid
That Philip King of Spain had promisèd:
And fifteen days he there remain'd aboard,
Expecting when this Spanish force would come,
Nor stept ashore, as he were going still.
But Spain, that meant and minded nothing less,
Pretends a sudden fear and care to keep
His own from Amurath's fierce invasion,
And to excuse his promise to our king;
For which he storms as great Achilles erst
Lying for want of wind in Aulis' gulf,
And hoiseth up his sails and anchors weighs,
And hitherward he comes, and looks to meet
This manly Moor whose case he undertakes.
Therefore go we to welcome and receive,
With cannon-shot and shouts of young and old,
This fleet of Portugals and troop of Moors.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Trumpets sound, and chambers are discharged, within. Then enter KING
SEBASTIAN, the DUKE OF AVERO, LORD LODOWICK, STUKELEY, &c.; the Moor,
CALIPOLIS, their Son, &c.


K. Seb. Muly Mahamet, King of Barbary,
Well met, and welcome to our town of Tangier,
After this sudden shock and hapless war.—
Welcome, brave Queen of Moors: repose thee here,
Thou and thy noble son.—And, soldiers all,
Repose you here in King Sebastian's town.—
Thus far in honour of thy name and aid,
Lord Mahamet, we have adventurèd,
To win for thee a kingdom, for ourselves
Fame, and performance of those promises
That in thy faith and royalty thou hast
Sworn to Sebastian King of Portugal;
And thrive it so with thee as thou dost mean,
And mean thou so as thou dost wish to thrive!
And if our Christ, for whom in chief we fight,
Hereby t' enlarge the bounds of Christendom,
Favour this war, and, as I do not doubt,
Send victory to light upon my crest,
Brave Moor, I will advance thy kingly son.
And with a diadem of pearl and gold
Adorn thy temples and enrich thy head.
The Moor. O brave Sebastian, noble Portugal,
Renown'd and honour'd ever mayst thou be,
Triúmpher over those that menace thee!
The hellish prince, grim Pluto, with his mace
Ding down my soul to hell, and with this soul
This son of mine, the honour of my house,
But I perform religiously to thee
That I have holily erst underta'en!
And that thy lords and captains may perceive
My mind in this single and pure to be,—
As pure as is the water of the brook,—
My dearest son to thee I do engage:
Receive him, lord, in hostage of my vow;
For even my mind presageth to myself,
That in some slavish sort I shall behold
Him dragg'd along this running river shore,
A spectacle to daunt the pride of those
That climb aloft by force, and not by right.
The Moor's Son. Nor can it otherwise befall the man
That keeps his seat and sceptre all in fear;
That wears his crown in eye of all the world,
Reputed theft and not inheritance.
What title, then, hath Abdelmelec here
To bar our father or his progeny?
Right royal prince, hereof you make no doubt,
Agreeing with your wholesome Christian laws:
Help, then, courageous lord, with hand and sword,
To clear his way, whose lets are lawless men;
And for this deed ye all shall be renown'd,
Renown'd and chronicled in books of fame,
In books of fame, and characters of brass,
Of brass, nay, beaten gold: fight, then, for fame,
And find th' Arabian Muly Hamet here
Adventurous, bold, and full of rich reward.
Stuke. Brave boy, how plain this princely mind in thee
Argues the height and honour of thy birth!
And well have I observ'd thy forwardness;—
Which being tender'd by your majesty,
No doubt the quarrel, open'd by the mouth
Of this young prince unpartially to us,
May animate and hearten all the host
To fight against the devil for Lord Mahamet.
K. Seb. True, Stukeley; and so freshly to my mind
Hath this young prince reduc'd his father's wrong,
That in good time I hope this honour's fire,
Kindled already with regard of right,
Bursts into open flames, and calls for wars,
Wars, wars, to plant the true-succeeding prince.—
Lord Mahamet, I take thy noble son
A pledge of honour, and shall use him so.—
Lord Lodowick, and my good Lord of Avero,
See this young prince convey'd safe to Messegon,
And there accompanied as him fitteth best:
And to this war prepare ye more and less,
This rightful war, that Christians' God will bless
[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Enter the Presenter.

Now harden'd is this hapless heathen prince,
And strengthen'd by the arms of Portugal,
This Moor, this murderer of his progeny;
And war and weapons now, and blood and death,
Wait on the counsels of this cursèd king;
And to a bloody banquet he invites
The brave Sebastian and his noble peers.

Dumb-show. Enter to the bloody banquet.

In fatal hour arriv'd this peerless prince,
To lose his life, his life, and many lives
Of lusty men, courageous Portugals,
Drawn by ambitious golden looks.
Let fame of him no wrongful censure sound;
Honour was object of his thoughts, ambition was his ground.
[Exit.

SCENE I.

Enter ABDELMELEC, CELYBIN, ARGERD ZAREO, and others.

Abdelm. Now tell me, Celybin, what doth the enemy?
Cel. The enemy, dread lord, hath left the town
Of Arzil with a thousand soldiers arm'd,
To guard his fleet of thirteen hundred sail;
And mustering of his men before the walls,
He found he had two thousand armèd horse,
And fourteen thousand men that serve on foot,
Three thousand pioners, and a thousand coachmen,
Besides a number almost numberless
Of drudges, negroes, slaves, and muleters,
Horse-boys, laundresses, and courtezans,
And fifteen hundred waggons full of stuff
For noblemen brought up in delicate.
Abdelm. Alas, good king, thy foresight hath been small,
To come with women into Barbary,
With laundresses, with baggage, and with trash,
Numbers unfit to multiply thy host.
Cel. Their payment in the camp is passing slow,
And victuals scarce, that many faint and die.
Abdelm. But whither marcheth he in all this haste?
Cel. Some think he marcheth hitherward,
And means to take this city of Alcazar.
Abdelm. Unto Alcazar? O unconstant chance!
Cel. The brave and valiant King of Portugal
Quarters his power in four battalions,
Afront the which, to welcome us withal,
Are six and thirty roaring-pieces plac'd:
The first, consisting of light-armèd horse
And of the garrisons from Tangier brought,
Is led by Alvaro Peres de Tavero;
The left or middle battle, of Italians
And German horsemen, Stukeley doth command,
A warlike Englishman sent by the Pope,
That vainly calls himself Marquis of Ireland;
Alonso Aquilaz conducts the third,—
That wing of German soldiers most consists;
The fourth legion is none but Portugals,
Of whom Lodevico Cæsar hath the chiefest charge:

Besides there stand six thousand horse
Bravely attir'd, prest where need requires.
Thus have I told your royal majesty
How he is plac'd to brave us in the fight.
Abdelm. But where's our nephew, Muly Mahamet?
Cel. He marcheth in the middle, guarded about
With full five hundred harquebuze on foot,
And twice three thousand needless armèd pikes.
Ar. Zareo. Great sovereign, vouchsafe to hear me speak,
And let Zareo's counsel now prevail:
Whilst time doth serve, and that these Christians dare
Approach the field with warlike ensigns spread,
Let us in haste with all our forces meet,
And hem them in, that not a man escape;
So will they be advis'd another time
How they do touch the shore of Barbary.
Abdelm. Zareo, hear our resolution:
And thus our forces we will first dispose.
Hamet, my brother, with a thousand shot
On horse-back, and choice harquebuziers all,
Having ten thousand with spear and shield,
Shall make the right wing of the battle up;
Zareo, you shall have in charge the left,
Two thousand argolets and ten thousand horse;
The main battle of harquebuze on foot,
And twenty thousand horsemen in their troops,
Myself, environ'd with my trusty guard
Of janizaries, fortunate in war;
And toward Arzil will we take our way.
If, then, our enemy will balk our force,
In God's name let him, it will be his best;
But if he level at Alcazar walls,
Then beat him back with bullets as thick as hail,
And make him know and rue his oversight,
That rashly seeks the ruin of this land.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter KING SEBASTIAN, the DUKE OF AVERO, STUKELEY, HERCULES, and
others.

K. Seb. Why, tell me, lords, why left ye Portugal,
And cross'd the seas with us to Barbary?
Was it to see the country and no more,
Or else to fly before ye were assail'd?
I am asham'd to think that such as you,
Whose deeds have been renownèd heretofore,
Should slack in such an act of consequence:
We come to fight, and fighting vow to die,
Or else to win the thing for which we came.
Because Abdelmelec, as pitying us,
Sends messages to counsel quietness,
You stand amaz'd, and think it sound advice,
As if our enemy would wish us any good:
No, let him know we scorn his courtesy,
And will resist his forces whatsoe'er.
Cast fear aside: myself will lead the way,
And make a passage with my conquering sword,
Knee-deep in blood of these accursèd Moors;
And they that love my honour, follow me.
Were you as resolute as is your king,
Alcazar walls should fall before your face,
And all the force of this Barbarian lord
Should be confounded, were it ten times more.
Avero. So well become these words a kingly mouth,
That are of force to make a coward fight;
But when advice and prudent foresight
Is joinèd with such magnanimity,
Trophies of victory and kingly spoils
Adorn his crown, his kingdom, and his fame.
Herc. We have descried upon the mountaintops
A hugy company of invading Moors;
And they, my lord, as thick as winter's hail,
Will fall upon our heads at unawares:
Best, then, betimes t'avoid this gloomy storm;
It is in vain to strive with such a stream.

Enter the Moor.

The Moor. Behold, thrice-noble lord, uncall'd I come
To counsel where necessity commands;
And honour of undoubted victory
Makes me exclaim upon this dastard flight.
Why, King Sebastian, wilt thou now foreslow,
And let so great a glory slip thy hands?
Say you do march unto Tarissa now,
The forces of the foe are come so nigh,
That he will let the passage of the river;
So unawares you will be fore'd to fight.
But know, O king, and you, thrice-valiant lords,
Few blows will serve. I ask but only this,
That with your power you march into the field;
For now is all the army resolute
To leave the traitor helpless in the fight,
And fly to me as to their rightful prince.
Some horsemen have already led the way,
And vow the like for their companions:
The host is full of tumult and of fear.
Then as you come to plant me in my seat,
And to enlarge your fame in Africa,
Now, now or never, bravely execute
Your resolution sound and honourable,
And end this war together with his life
That doth usurp the crown with tyranny.
K. Seb. Captains, you hear the reasons of the king,
Which so effectually have pierc'd mine ears,
That I am fully resolute to fight;
And who refuseth now to follow me,
Let him be ever counted cowardly.
Avero. Shame be his share that flies when kings do fight!
Avero lays his life before your feet.
Stuke. For my part, lords, I cannot sell my blood
Dearer than in the company of kings.
[Exeunt all except the Moor.
The Moor. Now have I set these Portugals a-work
To hew a way for me unto the crown,
Or with their weapons here to dig their graves.
You bastards of the Night and Erebus,
Fiends, Furies, hags that fight in beds of steel,
Range through this army with your iron whips,
Drive forward to this deed this Christian crew,
And let me triumph in the tragedy,
Though it be seal'd and honour'd with the blood
Both of the Portugal and barbarous Moor.
Ride, Nemesis, ride in thy fiery cart,
And sprinkle gore amongst these men of war,
That either party, eager of revenge,
May honour thee with sacrifice of death;
And having bath'd thy chariot-wheels in blood,
Descend and take to thy tormenting hell
The mangled body of that traitor-king
That scorns the power and force of Portugal:
Then let the earth discover to his ghost
Such tortures as usurpers feel below;
Rack'd let him be in proud Ixion's wheel,
Pin'd let him be with Tantalus' endless thirst,
Prey let him be to Tityus' greedy bird,
Wearied with Sisyphus' immortal toil:
And lastly for revenge, for deep revenge,
Whereof thou goddess and deviser art,
Damn'd let him be, damn'd, and condemn'd to bear
All torments, tortures, plagues, and pains of hell.
[Exit.

ACT V.

Enter the Presenter.

Ill be to him that so much ill bethinks;
And ill betide this foul ambitious Moor,
Whose wily trains with smoothest course of speech
Have tied and tangled in a dangerous war
The fierce and manly King of Portugal.
[Lightning and thunder.
Now throw the heavens forth their lightning-flames,
And thunder over Afric's fatal fields:
Blood will have blood, foul murder scape no scourge.

Enter FAME, like an angel, and hangs the crowns upon a tree.

At last descendeth Fame, as Iris
To finish fainting Dido's dying life;
Fame from her stately bower doth descend,
And on the tree, as fruit new-ripe to fall,
Placeth the crowns of these unhappy kings,
That erst she kept in eye of all the world.
[Here the blazing star
Now fiery stars, and streaming comets blaze,
That threat the earth and princes of the same.
[Firewords.
Fire, fire about the axletree of heaven
Whirls round, and from the foot of Cassiope,
In fatal hour, consumes these fatal crowns.
[One crown falls.
Down falls the diadem of Portugal.
[The other crown falls.
The crowns of Barbary and kingdoms fall;
Ay me, that kingdoms may not stable stand!
And now approaching near the dismal day,
The bloody day wherein the battles join,
Monday the fourth of August, seventy-eight,
The sun shines wholly on the parchèd earth,
The brightest planet in the highest heaven.
The heathens, eager bent against their foe,
Give onset with great ordnance to the war;
The Christians with great noise of cannon-shot
Send angry onsets to the enemy.
Give ear, and hear how war begins his song
With dreadful clamours, noise, and trumpets' sound.
[Exit.

SCENE I.

Alarums, and chambers discharged, within: then enter to the battle; and the
Moors, who form ABDELMELEC'S army, fly.
Skirmish still: then enter ABDELMELEC in his chair, ARGERD ZAREO, and
train.

Abdelm. Say on, Zareo, tell me all the news,
Tell me what Fury rangeth in our camp,
That hath enforc'd our Moors to turn their backs;
Zareo, say what chance did bode this ill,
What ill enforc'd this dastard cowardice?
Ar. Zareo. My lord, such chance as wilful war affords;
Such chances and misfortunes as attend
On him, the god of battle and of arms.
My lord, when with our ordnance fierce we sent
Our Moors with smaller shot, as thick as hail
Follows apace, to charge the Portugal;
The valiant duke, the devil of Avero,
The bane of Barbary, fraughted full of ire,
Breaks through the ranks, and with five hundred horse,
All men-at-arms, forward and full of might,
Assaults the middle wing, and puts to flight
Eight thousand harquebuze that serv'd on foot,
And twenty thousand Moors with spear and shield,
And therewithal the honour of the day.
Abdelm. Ah, Abdelmelec, dost thou live to hear
This bitter process of this first attempt?—
Labour, my lords, to renew our force
Of fainting Moors, and fight it to the last.—
My horse, Zareo!—O, the goal is lost,
The goal is lost!—Thou King of Portugal,
Thrice-happy chance it is for thee and thine
That heaven abates my strength and calls me hence.—
My sight doth fail; my soul, my feeble soul
Shall be releas'd from prison on this earth:
Farewell, vain world! for I have play'd my part.
[Dies.

A long skirmish; and then enter MULY MAHAMET SETH.

Muly Mah. Seth. Brave Abdelmelec, thou thrice-noble lord!
Not such a wound was given to Barbary,
Had twenty hosts of men been put to sword,
As death, pale death, with fatal shaft hath given.
Lo, dead is he, my brother and my king,
Whom I might have reviv'd with news I bring!
Ar. Zareo. His honours and his types he hath resign'd
Unto the world, and of a manly man,
Lo, in a twinkling, a senseless stock we see!
Muly Mah. Seth. You trusty soldiers of this warlike king,
Be counsell'd now by us in this advice;
Let not his death be bruited in the camp,
Lest with the sudden sorrow of the news
The army wholly be discomfited.
My Lord Zareo, thus I comfort you;
Our Moors have bravely borne themselves in fight,
Likely to get the honour of the day,
If aught may gotten be where loss is such.
Therefore, in this apparel as he died,
My noble brother will we here advance,
And set him in his chair with cunning props,
That our Barbarians may behold their king,
And think he doth repose him in his tent.
Ar. Zareo. Right politic and good is your advice.
Muly. Mah. Seth. Go, then, to see it speedily perform'd.—
[The body of ABDELMELEC is propped up in his chair.
Brave lord, if Barbary recover this,
Thy soul with joy will sit and see the fight.
[Exeunt.

Alarums within: enter to the battle; and the Christians fly: the DUKE OF
AVERO is slain. Enter KING SEBASTIAN and STUKELEY.
K. Seb. Seest thou not, Stukeley, O Stukeley, seest thou not
The great dishonour done to Christendom?
Our cheerful onset cross'd in springing hope;
The brave and mighty prince, Duke of Avero,
Slain in my sight: now joy betide his ghost,
For like a lion did he bear himself!
Our battles are all now disorderèd,
And by our horses' strange retiring-back
Our middle wing of foot-men over-rode.
Stukeley, alas, I see my oversight!
False-hearted Mahamet, now, to my cost,
I see thy treachery, warn'd to beware
A face so full of fraud and villany.

Alarums within, and they run out, and two set upon STUKELEY, and he drives
them in. Then enter the Moor and his Boy, flying.
The Moor. Villain, a horse!
Boy. O, my lord, if you return, you die!
The Moor. Villain, I say, give me a horse to fly,
To swim the river, villain, and to fly.
[Exit Boy.
Where shall I find some unfrequented place,
Some uncouth walk, where I may curse my fill,
My stars, my dam, my planets, and my nurse,
The fire, the air, the water, and the earth,
All causes that have thus conspir'd in one,
To nourish and preserve me to this shame?
Thou that wert at my birth predominate,
Thou fatal star, what planet e'er thou be,
Spit out thy poison bad, and all the ill
That fortune, fate, or heaven, may bode a man.
Thou nurse infortunate, guilty of all,
Thou mother of my life, that brought'st me forth,
Curs'd mayst thou be for such a cursèd son!
Curs'd be thy son with every curse thou hast!
Ye elements of whom consists this clay,
This mass of flesh, this cursèd crazèd corpse,
Destroy, dissolve, disturb, and dissipate,
What water, [fire,] earth, and air congeal'd.

Alarums within, and re-enter the Boy.

Boy. O, my lord,
These ruthless Moors pursue you at the heels,
And come amain to put you to the sword!
The Moor. A horse, a horse, villain, a horse!
That I may take the river straight and fly.
Boy. Here is a horse, my lord,
As swiftly pac'd as Pegasus;
Mount thee thereon, and save thyself by flight.
The Moor. Mount me I will: but may I never pass
The river, till I be reveng'd
Upon thy soul, accursèd Abdelmelec!
If not on earth, yet when we meet in hell,
Before grim Minos, Rhadamanth, and Æacus,
The combat will I crave upon thy ghost,
And drag thee thorough the loathsome pools
Of Lethe, Styx, and fiery Phlegethon.
[Exeunt,

Alarums within: re-enter STUKELEY wounded, followed by HERCULES and
JONAS.

Herc. Stand, traitor, stand, ambitious Englishman,
Proud Stukeley, stand, and stir not ere thou die.
Thy forwardness to follow wrongful arms,
And leave our famous expedition erst
Intended by his Holiness for Ireland,
Foully hath here betray'd and tied us all
To ruthless fury of our heathen foe;
For which, as we are sure to die,
Thou shalt pay satisfaction with thy blood.
Stuke. Avaunt, base villains! twit ye me with shame
Or infamy of this injurious war?
When he that is the judge of right and wrong
Determines battle as him pleaseth best.
But sith my stars bode me this tragic end,
That I must perish by these barbarous Moors,
Whose weapons have made passage for my soul
That breaks from out the prison of my breast;
Ye proud malicious dogs of Italy,
Strike on, strike down this body to the earth,
Whose mounting mind stoops to no feeble stroke.
Jon. Why suffer we this Englishman to live?—
[They stab STUKELEY.
Villain, bleed on; thy blood in channels run,
And meet with those whom thou to death hast done.
[Exeunt HERCULE and JONAS.
Stuke. Thus Stukeley, slain with many a deadly stab,
Dies in these desert fields of Africa.
Hark, friends; and with the story of my life
Let me beguile the torment of my death.
In England's London, lordings, was I born,
On that brave bridge, the bar that thwarts the Thames.
My golden days, my younger careless years,
Were when I touch'd the height of Fortune's wheel,
And liv'd in affluence of wealth and ease.
Thus in my country carried long aloft,
A discontented humour drave me thence
To cross the seas to Ireland, then to Spain.
There had I welcome and right royal pay
Of Philip, whom some call the Catholic King:
There did Tom Stukeley glitter all in gold,
Mounted upon his jennet white as snow,
Shining as Phœbus in King Philip's court:
There, like a lord, famous Don Stukeley liv'd,
For so they call'd me in the court of Spain,
Till, for a blow I gave a bishop's man,
A strife gan rise between his lord and me,
For which we both were banish'd by the king.
From thence to Rome rides Stukeley all aflaunt:
Receiv'd with royal welcomes of the Pope,
There was I grac'd by Gregory the Great,
That then created me Marquis of Ireland.
Short be my tale, because my life is short.
The coast of Italy and Rome I left:
Then was I made lieutenant general
Of those small forces that for Ireland went,
And with my companies embark'd at Ostia.
My sails I spread, and with these men of war
In fatal hour at Lisbon we arriv'd.
From thence to this, to this hard exigent,
Was Stukeley driven, to fight or else to die,
Dar'd to the field, that never could endure
To hear God Mars his drum but he must march.
Ah, sweet Sebastian, hadst thou been well advis'd,
Thou mightst have manag'd arms successfully!
But from our cradles we were markèd all
And destinate to die in Afric here.
Stukeley, the story of thy life is told;
Here breathe thy last, and bid thy friends fare-well:
And if thy country's kindness be so much,
Then let thy country kindly ring thy knell.
Now go and in that bed of honour die,
Where brave Sebastian's breathless corse doth lie.
Here endeth Fortune rule and bitter rage;
Here ends Tom Stukeley's pilgrimage.
[Dies.

Re-enter MULY MAHAMET SETH, ARGERD ZAREO, and train, with drums and
trumpets.

Muly Mah. Seth. Retreat is sounded through our camp, and now
From battle's fury cease our conquering Moors.
Pay thanks to heaven with sacrificing fire,
Alcazar, and ye towns of Barbary.—
Now hast thou sit as in a trance, and seen,
To thy soul's joy and honour of thy house,
The trophies and the triumphs of thy men,
Great Abdelmelec; and the god of kings
Hath made thy war successful by thy right,
His friends, whom death and fates have ta'en from thee.
Lo, this was he that was the people's pride,
And cheerful sunshine to his subjects all!
Now have him hence, that royally he may
Be buried and embalmèd as is meet.
Zareo, have you through the camp proclaim'd
As erst we gave in charge?
Ar. Zareo. We have, my lord, and rich rewards propos'd
For them that find the body of the king;
For by those guard[s] that had him in their charge
We understand that he was done to death,
And for his search two prisoners, Portugals,
Are set at large to find their royal king.
Muly Mah. Seth. But of the traitorous Moor you hear no news
That fled the field and sought to swim the ford?
Ar. Zareo. Not yet, my lord; but doubtless God will tell
And with his finger point out where he haunts.
Muly Mah. Seth. So let it rest, and on this earth bestow
This princely corse,
Till further for his funerals we provide.
Ar. Zareo. From him to thee as true-succeeding prince,
With all allegiance and with honour's types,
In name of all thy people and thy land,
We give this kingly crown and diadem.
Muly Mah. Seth. We thank you all, and as my lawful right,
With God's defence and yours, shall I [it] keep.

Enter two Portugals with the body of KING SEBASTIAN.

First Port. As gave your grace in charge, right royal prince,
The fields and sandy plains we have survey'd,
And even among the thickest of his lords
The noble King of Portugal we found,
Wrapt in his colours coldly on the earth,
And done to death with many a mortal wound.
Muly Mah. Seth. Lo, here, my lords, this is the earth and clay
Of him that erst was mighty King of Portugal!—
There let him lie, and you for this be free
To make return from hence to Christendom.

Enter two Peasants, with the body of the Moor.

First Peas. Long live the mighty King of Barbary!
Muly Mah. Seth. Welcome, my friend: what body hast thou there?
First Peas. The body of th' ambitious enemy
That squander'd all this blood in Africa,
Whose malice sent so many souls to hell,
The traitor Muly Mahamet do I bring,
And for thy slave I throw him at thy feet.
Muly Mah. Seth. Zareo, give this man a rich reward;
And thankèd be the god of just revenge,
That he hath given our foe into our hands,
Beastly, unarmèd, slavish, full of shame.—
But say, how came this traitor to his end?
First Peas. Seeking to save his life by shameful flight,
He mounteth on a hot Barbarian horse,
And so in purpose to have pass'd the stream,
His headstrong steed throws him from out his seat;
Where, diving oft for lack of skill to swim,
It was my chance alone to see him drown'd,
Whom by the heels I dragg'd from out the pool,
And hither have him brought thus fil'd with mud.
Muly Mah. Seth. A death too good for such a damnèd wretch:
But sith our rage and rigour of revenge
By violence of his end prevented is,
That all the world may learn by him t' avoid
To hale on princes to injurious war,
His skin we will be parted from his flesh,
And being stiffen'd out and stuff'd with straw,
So to deter and fear the lookers-on
From any such foul fact or bad attempt:
Away with him!
[Exeunt some with the body of the Moor.
And now, my lords, for this Christian king:
My Lord Zareo, let it be your charge
To see the soldiers tread a solemn march,
Trailing their pikes and ensigns on the ground,
So to perform the prince's funerals.

Here endeth the tragical battle of Alcazar.





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