Your silken courtiers christen me: but, father,
Although my flesh be tawny, in my veins
Runs blood as red, as royal, as the best
And proudest in Spain; there does, old man.
My father, who with his empire lost his life,
And left me captive to a Spanish tyrant ;—
Oh!

Go tell him; Spanish tyrant! tell him, do.
He that can lose a kingdom, and not rave,
He's a tame jade; I am not tell' old Philip
I call him tyrant; here's a sword and arms,
A heart, a head, and so, pish!—'tis but death.
Old fellow, she's not here: but ere I die,
Sword, I'll bequeath thee a rich legacy.

ALV. Watch fitter hours to think on wrongs than now;
Death's frozen hand holds royal Philip's heart;
Half of his body lies within a grave;

Then do not now by quarrels shake that state,

Which is already too much ruinate.

Come, and take leave of him before he die.

ELEAZ. I'll follow you. Now purple villany,

Sit like a robe imperial on my back,

That under thee I closelier may contrive

[Exit.

My vengeance; foul deeds hid, do sweetly thrive.
Mischief erect thy throne and sit in state,
Here, here upon this head; let fools fear fate,-
Thus I defy my stars: I care not, I,

How low I tumble down, so I mount high:

Old Time, I'll wait bare-headed at thy heels,

And be a foot-boy to thy winged hours;
They shall not tell one minute out in sands,
But I'll set down the number; I'll still wake
And waste these balls of sight, by tossing them
In busy observations upon thee,

Sweet opportunity! I'll bind myself

To thee in base apprenticehood so long,
Till on thy naked scalp grow hair as thick
As mine, and all hands shall lay hold on thee,
If thou wilt lend me but thy rusty scythe,
To cut down all that stand within my wrongs
And my revenge. Love, dance in twenty forms
Upon my beauty, that this Spanish dame

May be bewitch'd and doat; her amorous flames
Shall blow up the old king, consume his sons,
And make all Spain a bonfire,

This tragedy being acted, hers doth begin;
To shed a harlot's blood can be no sin.

SCENE II.

[Exit.

The curtain being drawn, there appears in his bed KING PHILIP, with his Lords; the PRINCESS ISABELLA at the feet; MENDOZA, ALVERO, HORTENZO, FERNANDO, RODERIGO; to them enter the QUEEN in haste.

Q. Mo. Whose was that screech-owl's voice, that,
like the sound

Of a hell-tortur'd soul, rung through mine ears
Nothing but horrid shrieks, nothing but death?
Whilst I, vailing my knees to the cold earth,

Drowning my withered cheeks in my warm tears,
And stretching out my arms to pull from heaven
Health for the royal majesty of Spain,

All cried, the majesty of Spain is dead!

That last word, dead, struck through the echoing air,
Rebounded on my heart, and smote me down
Breathless to the cold earth, and made me leave
My prayers for Philip's life; but, thanks to heaven,
I see him live, and lives, I hope, to see
Unnumber'd years, to guide this empery.

K. PHIL. The number of my years ends in one day :
Ere this sun's down, all a king's glory sets,
For all our lives are but death counterfeits.
Father Mendoza, and you peers of Spain,
Dry your wet eyes; for sorrow wanteth force,
T' inspire a breathing soul in a dead corse;
Such is your king. Where's Isabel our daughter?
MEND. At your bed's feet, confounded in her tears.
K. PHIL. She of your grief the heaviest burthen
bears;

You can but lose a king, but she a father.

Q. Mo. She bear the heaviest burthen! Oh! say rather

I bear, and am borne down; my sorrowing

Is for a husband's loss, loss of a king.

K. PHIL. No more. Alvero, call the princess hither. ALV. Madam, his majesty doth call for you. K. PHIL. Come hither, Isabella! reach a hand,Yet now it shall not need: instead of thine, Death, shoving thee back, clasps his hands in mine,

And bids me come away: I must! I must!

Though kings be gods on earth, they turn to dust. Is not Prince Philip come from Portugal ?

ROD. The prince, as yet, is not return'd, my lord. K. PHIL. Commend me to him if I ne'er behold

my body;

Though worms do make no difference of flesh,
Yet kings are curious here to dig their graves;
Such is man's frailty: when I am embalm'd,
Apparel me in a rich royal robe,

According to the custom of the land;

Then place my bones within that brazen shrine,
Which death hath builded for my ancestors;
I cannot name death, but he straight steps in,
And pulls me by the arm.

FERN. His grace doth faint,

Help me, my lords, softly to raise him up.
Enter ELEAZAR, and stands sadly by.

K. PHIL. Lift me not up, I shortly must go down.
When a few dribbling minutes have run out,
Mine hour's ended. King of Spain farewell!
You all acknowledge him your sovereign?

ALL. When you are dead we will acknowledge him.

K. PHIL. Govern this kingdom well; to be a king Is given to many; but to govern well, Granted to few. Have care to Isabel,

Her virtue was King Philip's looking-glass;
Reverence the queen your mother; love your sister,
And the young prince your brother: even that day,
When Spain shall solemnize my obsequies,

And lay me up in earth, let them crown you.
Where's Eleazar, Don Alvero's son?

FERN. Yonder, with cross'd arms, stands he malcontent.

K. PHIL. I do commend him to thee for a man
Both wise and warlike; yet beware of him:
Ambition wings his spirit; keep him down ;
What will not men attempt to win a crown?
Mendoza is protector of thy realm
I did elect him for his gravity;

I trust he'll be a father to thy youth.
Call help, Fernando! now I faint indeed.
FERN. My lords!

K. PHIL. Let none with a distracted voice
Shriek out, and trouble me in my departure.
Heaven's hands I see are beckoning for my soul;
I come! I come! thus do the proudest die;
Death hath no mercy, life no certainty.

[Dies. MEND. As yet his soul's not from her temple

gone,

Therefore forbear loud lamentation.

Q. Mo. Oh! he's dead, he's dead! lament and die! In her king's end begins Spain's misery.

ISA. He shall not end so soon. Father, dear father! FERN. Forbear, sweet Isabella! shrieks are vain. Isa. You cry forbear; you, by his loss of breath,