ABDELMELEC
Say on, Zareo, tell me all the news,
Tell me what Fury rangeth in our camp,
That
hath enforced our Moors to turn their backs;
Zareo,
say what chance did bode this ill,
What
ill enforced this dastard cowardice?
ARGERD
ZAREO
My lord, such chance as wilful war affords;
Such
chancesand 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 though 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 haquebuze that served on foot,
And
twenty thousand Moors with spear and shield;
And
therewithal the honour of the day.
ABDELMELEC
Ah,
Abdelmelec, dost thou live to hear
This
bitter pricess of this first attempt?-
Labour,
my lords, to renew our force,
Of
fainting Moors, and fight it to the last.-
My
hors, 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 fain; my soul, my feeble soul
Sall
be released from prison on this earth:
Farwell,
vain world! for I have play’d my part.
Dies.
A long skirmish;And then enter his brother MILY MAHAMET SETH.
MULY
MAHAMET 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 brotherand my king,
Whom
I might have revived with news I bring!
ARGER
ZAREO
His
honours and his typs he hath resign’d
Unto
the world, and of manly man,
Lo,
in a twinkling, a senseless stock we see!
MULY
MAHAMET 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.
Therefor,
in this apparel as he died,
My
noble brother will we here advence
And
set him in his chair with cunning props,
That
our Barbarians may behold their king,
And
thik he doth repose him in his tent.
ARGERD
ZAREO
Right
politic and good is your advice.
MILY
MAHAMET SETH
Go,
then to see it speedily perform’d-
The body of ABDELMELEC is propped in his chair
Barve lord, if Barbary recover this,
Thy
soul with joy will sit and see the fight.
Exeunt.
Alarums:
enter ot the battle; and the Christians fly;the DUKE
OF AVERO
is slain.Enter SEBASTIAN and STUKELEY.
SEBASTIAN
Seest
thou not, sutkeley, O stukeley, seestthou 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 ghost,
For
like a lion did he bear himself!
Our
battles are all now disordered,
And
by our horses’ strange retiring-back
Our
middle wing of footmen ovarrode.
Stukeley,
alas, I see my oversight!
False-hearted
Mahamet, now, to my cost,
I
see thy treachery, warn’d to beware
Aface
so full of fraud and villainy.
Alarums within, and they run out, and two set upon STUKELEY.
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,
Isay, 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 conspired inone,
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 brougth’st me forth,
Cursed
mayst thou be for such a cursed son!
Cursed
be thy son with every curse thou hast!
Ye
elements of whom consist this clay,
This
mass of flesh, this cursed craed corpse,
Desrtoy,
dissolve,disturb, and dissipate,
What
water, earth, and air congeal’d.
Alarums within, and re-enter the BOY.
BOY
Oh,
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 horse, my lord,
As
swiftly paced 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
Rvenge’d
upon thy soul accursed Abdelmelec!
If
not on earth, thy when we meet in hell,
Befer
grim Minos, Rhadamanth and Aeacus,
The
combat will I crave upon thy ghost,
And
drag thee though the loathsome pools,
Of
Lethe, Styx, and fiery Phlegethon
Exit.
Alarums within. Enter STUKELEY with rwo Italians,[
HERCULES and JONAS.]
HERCULES
Stand,
traitor, stand, ambitiohs Englishman,
Proud
stukeley, stand, and stir not ere thou die.
Thy
forwardness to folow 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.
STUKELEY
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 formy 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.
JONAS
Why
suffer we this Englishman to live,-
[They stab STUKELEY Villain, bleed on, thy blood in channelsrun,
And
meet with those whom thou to death hast done.
Exeunt [HERCULES and JONAS].
STUKELEY
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 thowarts the Thames.
My
golden days, my younger careless years,
Were
when I touch’d the height of Fortune’s wheel,
And
lived in affluence of wealth and ease.
Thus
in my country carried long aloft,
A
discontented humour drave me thence
To
cross the seas to Irland, then to Spain.
There
had I welcome and right royal pay
Of
Phillip, whom some call the Catholic King ,
There
did Tom Stukeley, glitter all in gold,
Mounted
upon his jennet white as snow,
Shining
as Phoebus in King Phillip’s court:
There,
like a lord, famous Don Stukeley lived,
For
so thy 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 .
Fom
thence to Rome rides Stukeley all aflaunt :
Received
with royal welcomes of the Pope,
There
was I graced by Gregory the Great,
That
then created me Marquis of Ireland.
Short
be ym tale, because my life is short.
THE
COAST OF Italy an dRome Ileft:
Then
was I made lieutenant-general
Of
those small forces that for Ireland went,
And
with my companies embark’d at Ostia.
M y
sails I spread, and with these men of war
In
fatal hour at Lisbon we arrived.
From
thence to this, to this hard exigent
Was
Stukeley driven to fight or else to die,
Dared
to the field,that never could endure
To hear
god Mars his drum but he must march.
Ah,
sweet Sebastian, hadst thou been well advised,
Thou
mightst have managed arms successfully!
But
from our cradles we were marked all
And
destinate to die in Afric here.
Stukeley,
the story of thy life is told;
Here
breathe thy last and bid thy friends farewell:
And
if thy country’s kindness be so much,
Then
let thy country kindly ring thy knell.
Now
go brave Sebastian’s breathless corse doth lie.
Here
endeth Fortune’s rule, and bitter rage,
Here
ends Tom Stukeley’s pilgrimage.
[Dies
Enter MULY MAHAMETSETH, ARGERED ZAREO and
train, with drums and trumpets
MULY
MAHAMET SETH
Retreat
is sounded through our camp, and now
From
battles’ fury cease our conquering Moors,
Pay
thanks to heaven with sacrificing fire,
Alcazar,
and ye towns of Barbary.-
Now
hast thou sit thou sit as in a trence, 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 hath 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 embalmed as is meet.
Zareo,
have you through the camp proclaim’d
As
erst we gave in charge?
ARGERD
ZAREO
We
have, my lord, and rich rewards proposed
For
them that find the body of the king;
For
by those guards that had him in their charge
We
undrestand that he was done to death,
And
for his search two prisoners, Portugals,
Are
set at large to find their royal king.
MULY
MAHAMET SETH
But
of the traitous Moor you hear no news
That
fled the field and sought to swim the ford?
ARGER
ZAREO
But
yet, my lord; but doubtless God will tell
And
with his finger point out where he haunts.
MULY
MAHAMET SETH
So
let it rest, and on this earth bestow
This
princely corse,
Till
further for his funerals we provide.
ARGERD
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
MAHAMET SETH
We
thank you all, and as my lawful right,
With
God’s defence and yours, shall I keep.
Enter two Portugals with the body of King SEBASTIAN.
FIRST
PORTUGAL
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
MAHAMET SETH
Lo,
here, my lords, this is the earth and cly,
Of
him that erst was mighty king of Portugal!-
There
let him lie, and you for this be free
T o
make return from hence to Christendom.
Enter two Peasents bringing in the MOOR.
FIRST
PEASENT
Long
live the mighty King of Barbary!
MULY
MAHAMET SETH
Welcome,
my friends, what body hast thou there?
FIRST
PEASENT
The
body of the 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
MAHAMET SETH
Zareo,
give this man a rich reward;
And
thanked be the God of just revenge,
That
he hath given our foe into our hands,
Beastly,
unarmed, slavish, full of shame.-
But
say, how came this traitor to his end?
Seeking
to save his life by shameful flight,
He
mounteth on a hot Barbarian horse,
And
so in purpos to have pass’d the stream,
His
headstrong steed throws him from out his seat;
Where,
driving 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 fill’d with mud.
MULY
MAHAMET SETH
A
death too good for such a damned wretch:
But
sith our rage and rigour of revenge
By
violence of his end prevented is,
That
all the world may learn by him to 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 strow,
So
to deter and fear the lookers-on
From
any such fact or bad attemt:
Away
with him!
[Exeunt Attendants 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.