s
To lye in a cold field, a field of murder?
Say thou shouldst kill ten thousand Christians;
They goe but as Embassadors to Heaven
To tell thy cruelties, and on yon Battlements
They all will stand on rowes, laughing to see
Thee fall into a pit as bottomlesse
As the Heavens are in extension infinite.

_Hub_. More, prethee, more: I had forgot this Musick.

_Bellina_. Say thou shouldst win the day, yet art thou lost,
For ever lost; an everlasting slave
Though thou com'st home a laurel'd Conqueror.
You courted me to love you; now I woe thee
To love thy selfe, to love a thing within thee
More curious than the frame of all this world,
More lasting than this Engine o're our heads,
Whose wheeles have mov'd so many thousand yeeres:
This thing is thy soule, for which I woe thee.

_Hub_. Thou woest, I yeeld, and in that yeelding love thee,
And for that love Ile be the Christians guide:
I am their Captaine, come, both _Goth_ and _Vandall_;
Nay, come the King, I am the Christians Generall.

_Bellina_. Not yet, till your Commission be faire drawne;
Not yet, till on your brow you beare the Print
Of a rich golden seale.

_Hub_. Get me that seale, then.

_Bellina_. There is an _Aqua fortis_ (an eating water)
Must first wash off thine infidelity,
And then th'art arm'd.

_Hub_. O let me, then, be arm'd.

_Bellina_. Thou shalt;
But on thy knees thou gently first shall sweare
To put no Armour on but what I beare.

_Hub_. By this chaste clasping of our hands I sweare.

_Bellina_. We then thus hand in hand will fight a battaile
Worth all the pitch-fields, all the bloody banquets,
The slaughter and the massacre of Christians,
Of whom such heapes so quickly never fell.
Brave onset! be thy end not terrible.

_Hub_. This kindled fire burne in us, till as deaths slaves
Our bodies pay their tributes to their graves.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Clowne and two Pagans_.

_Clown_. Come, fellow Pagans; death meanes to fare well to-day, for he
is like to have rost-meate to his supper, two principal dishes; many a
knight keepes a worse Table: first, a brave Generall Carbonadoed[165],
then a fat Bishop broyl'd, whose Rochet[166] comes in fryed for the
second course, according to the old saying, _A plumpe greazie Prelate
fries a fagot daintily_.

1 _Pag_. Oh! the Generall _Bellizarius_ for my money; hee has a fiery
Spirit, too; hee will roast soakingl