is peice seemeth to have a more speciall kind of
relation to your _Selfe_, more then to many others, it being an exact
and _perfect patterne_ of a truly Noble and War-lick Chieftian.

When it first appeared upon the _Stage_ it went off with Applause and
favour, and my hope is it may yeild your Worship as much content as my
_selfe_ can wish, who ever rest to be commanded by your Worship,

_In all duty and observance_,

I.K.[131]

TO THE COURTEOUS READER.

_To make too large an explanation of this following Poem were but to
beguile thy appetite and somewhat dull thy expectation; but the work it
selfe being now an Orphant, and wanting him to protect that first begot
it, it were an iniury to his memory to passe him unspoken of. For the
man his Muse was much courted but no common mistresse; and though but
seldome seene abroad yet ever much_ admired _at. This worke, not the
meanest of his labours, has much adorned not only one but many Stages,
with such a generall applause as it hath drawne even the Rigid Stoickes
of the Time, who, though not for pleasure yet for profit have gathered
something out of his plentifull Vineyard. My hopes are it wil prove no
lesse pleasing to the_ Reader _then it has formerly beene to the_
Spectators; _and, so prooving, I have my aime and full desire.
Farewell_.

The Actors Names.

_Genzerick_, King of the _Vandals_.
_Anthonio_ |
_Damianus_ | 3 Noble men.
_Cosmo_ |
_Hubert_, A brave Commander.
_Henerick_, the Prince.
_Bellizarius_, the Generall.
_Eugenius_, a Christian Bishop.
_Epidaurus_, a Lord.
2 Physitians.
2 Pagans.
1 Camell-driver.
2 Camell-driver.
_Victoria_, Wife to _Bellizarius_.
_Bellina_, his Daughter.
A Souldier.
2 Angels.
2 Christians tonguelesse.
Clowne.
Constable.
3 Watchmen.
3 Huntsmen.
3 Other Camell-drivers.
Officers and Souldiers.

The Martyr'd Souldier.

_Actus Primus_.

SCAENA PRIMA.

_Enter Genzerick King of the Vandalls, sicke on his
bed, Anthony, Damianus, Cosmo, and Lords_.

_King_. Away, leave off your golden Flatteries,
I know I cannot live, there's one lies here
Brings me the newes; my glories and my greatnes
Are come to nothing.

_Anth_. Be not your selfe the Bell
To tolle you to the Grave; and the good Fates,
For ought we see, may winde upon your bottome[132]
A thred of excellent length.

_Cosm_. We hope the Gods have not such rugged hands
To snatch yee from us.

_King_. _Cosmo,