University of Virginia Library

ACTUS PRIMUS.

Thunder and Lightning: Enter Calib the Witch.
Calib.
Ha, lowder a little; so, that burst was well:
Agen, ha, ha; house, house your heads you feare.
Stroke mortal fooles; when Calibs consort plaies
A Huntse-up to her, how rarely doth it languell
In mine eares? these are mine Organs,
The Toad, the Batte, the Raven, and the fell whisling bird,
Are all my anthum singing Quiresters;
Such saplesse rootes, and livelesse witherd woods
Are pleasanter to me, than to behold the jocund
Month of May, in whose greene head of youth,
The amorous Flora strowes her various flowers,
And smiles to see how brave she has deckt her girle:
But passe we May, as game for fangled fooles,
That dares not set a foote in Arts darke secret,
And bewitching path as Calib has.
Here is my mansion, within the rugged bowels of this Cave,
This cragge, this Cliffe, this denne, which to behold
Would freeze to Ice the hissing tramels of Medusa:
Yet here inthron'd I sit, more richer in my spels
And potent charmes, than is the stately mountaine
Queene, drest with the beauty of her sparkling jems,
To vie a lustre 'gainst the heavenly Lampes:
But we are sunke in these Antipades, so choakt
With darknesse in great Calibs Cave, that it can
Stifle day, it can and shall, for we doe loath
The light, and as our deedes are blacke we hug the night.
But wheres this boy, my George, my love, my life,
Whom Calib lately doates on more than life:
I must not have him wander from my love, further than
Sommons of my eye or becke can call him back agen:
But 'tis my fiend gotten, & deformed issue that misleads him,
For which, Ile rappe him in a storme of haile, and dash him
'Gainst the pavement on the rocky den:
He must not lead my joy astray from me;
The Parents of that boy begetting him,
Begot and boare the issue of their deaths, which done,
The childe I stole, thinking alone to triumph in his death,
And bathe my body in his popular gore;
But Dove-like nature favoured so the child, that Calibs killing
Knife fell from her hand, and stead of stabs I kist
I kist the red lipt boy, and since have brought him up,
Cope mate, and fellow with my owne sweete sonne:
And now the boy desires to know, what Calib
Hath so long conceal'd from him, his parentage,
Which still I must, as I have done, put off,
And cast some pleasing game to file that question
Out of his thoughts:
His heart soares high, fame on his temple plaies,
And Calib feares her death by Autumes day;
For which my light wing'd spirit of the Aire
Grand Tarpax, prince of the grisly North:
What, ho Tarpax, obey my charmes,
And with the steele tipt pinions of thy wings,
Cut through the Clowds and flye unto thy Calib.

Thunder and Lightning: Tarpax descends.
Tar.
No more my Calib, see thy Tarpax comes,
More swifter than the motive of an eye,
Mounted on wings swift as a thought
I flye unto my Mistresse: now, what wouldst thou?

Calib.
Be full resolv'd of feare, struck suddain doubts:
Age makes my spanne of dayes seeme but an inch,
And snowes, like cold December, on my heart:
See how I tremble Tarpax, as doth the listning Hart,
When he heares the feather'd arrowes sing his funeral dirge.

Tar.
Name what afflicts my love.

Calib.
But will my Tarpax tell me?

Tar.
Both must and will.

Calib.
When must I dye then? when must Calibs life
Be backe surrenderd by the hands of death?
Age can no longer to me subsistance give:
My Taper hath watcht long, when will it out?
Performe no flattering part for to delude me:
When? ha, when my Tarpax?

Tar.
Fates keepe unknowne from spirits those last times
Of dayes and houres: yet can I riddle out a prophesie,
Which if my Calib well observe and keepe
Thy time may farther runne, death stay his sleepe.

Calib.
Say on sweet Tarpax.

Tar.

Cal.
Ha, ha, ha; and when will that be Tarpax?
Vanish like smoake, my feare, come kisse me my Love,
Thou hast earn'd thy breakefast Chuck; here suck thy fill.

Clowne within.
Clow.
Illo ho, ho Illo.

Tar.
What mortall's that disturbs us?
Shall I blast him?

Cal.
Hold my Love, 'tis Suckabus our sonne; fall off.

Tar.
The foole nere saw his Father yet,
Make us acquainted.

Enter foole bloody.
Clow.
So ho, ho; Mother, Mother.

Cal.
Defend me Tarpax: what doth ayle the boy?

Clow.
Ale? no mother; I am neither in Ale nor Beere,
Nor no such graine-tub, peasanticall Element:
My Hogshead runnes Alegant, and your Nursling broacht it.

Cal.
Hath George done this? Slave, thou lyest:
Goe call him hither.

Clow.
Mother, no more such words, my blood's up,
And I am apt for Rebellion; and you know
A Souldiers Latin for the Lye, is the stab.

Tar.
Hold villaine, what resist thy mother?

Clow.
Oh Lord, helpe me George, George, nursling George.

Cal.
Villaine come back,
I'le tosse thee in a whirle-winde i'th' ayre else:
Come back I say, and learne to put on duty.
There stands your fire, you Cur; kneele for a benediction.

Clow.

Hold your hand Mother, I have no mind to be made
a Buzzard, nor flye like an Owle i'th' ayre, or mount like a
Kite over Townes and Citties for carrion, without any biding
place. Where my father is I know not, but the likenesse
of our persons shews me a Pig of your owne farrow.

Tar.
I am thy Father Suckabus.

Clow.
You may be the Divell for ought I know,
For you are neither like my Mother, nor me.

Cal.
Cast feare and wonder off my boy,
This is thy Father, and a potent spirit,
Prince of the grisly North, that muffles us, and tyes,
And also unties the fiery rude band og Boreas:
Then, as becomes thee, shew thy reverence to him.

Clow.

Why now I am satisfi'd; could not you have said
this before, Pray father, pray the devill to blesse me, and make
me a man like my mother: So be it.

Both.

Our blessings on our Child.

Clow.

But doe you heare Father, if you be a Prince, I must
be a Lord, or an Earle, or a devillish Duke, or somewhat.

Tar.

Thou art by birth Duke of Styx, Sulpher, & Helvetia.

Clow.

O brave, o brave, Duke of Styx, Sulpher, & Helvetia?
Pray father, what Title hath my Mother?

Tar.

Queene of Limbony, and Dutchesse of Witchcordia.

Clow.

I thought so, I told my Mother shee lookt like a
Witch a great while agoe: a poxe on't, I knew it: but doe
you heare mother, were not you one of the Cats that drunke
up the Millers Ale in Lancashire Wind-mills?

Cal.
Peace sir, begon, goe seeke out George,
And bring him to me presently.

Clow.

Must I call George agen? Then (I feare) I shall get
another broken pate, before I get a playster for this: for wee
doe nothing in the world but fight; he kils me two or three
times in an houre: he playes a Knight in Armour, and I a
Lady; that he fights with a great Tree for, and winnes me
from it: then I play a Gyant, and he kils me; then a Boare,
and he kills me agen; then an inchanted Castle, and then my
stones goe to 'rack; then a Lyon, and then hee pulls out my
heart.

Cal.

Then an Asse sir.

Horne within.
Clow.
Right, and there he kills me agen:
But Mother, George is come, I heare his Horne.

Cal.
Into my Cave my Tarpax, take my sonne with thee,
I'le have a little conference with George.
Exit.
Enter George.
Welcome my George, my joy, my love, my life,
My soules sole darling, and my fancies dotage
Commander of great Calib, and her power;
Why does those eyes, the lights of Calibs Cell,
Shoote their illustrious splendor on the Earth,
And not shine upwards as they were wont to doe?
Why doe those Armes thus twine into a locke,
As if dispaire had seiz'd upon thy thoughts,
And blasted quite the flower of thy youth?
Speake my lov'd Nursling, can Calib give thee ease?

Geo.
You may, you can.

Cal.
Why then be sure I will:
Let day-light shine then, and expell those clouds,
For here I vow, by that infernall power,
By whom I may command to grant what ere it be,
Thy full demand, not dangering of our selfe.

Geo.
I wish it not, but so much love
To my kind Nurse, as shews a tender mother
To her Child, when she first blesses him
After a long absence.

Cal.
This stronger tyes our love; thy demand?

Geo.
Then thus: Although I want no Parent in your selfe,
By your kind fostring and indulgency:
Be not offended, that I here renew my former suite,
Which though so long put by,
Your Oath stands now unto me for to grant.

Cal.
Say on.

Geo.
The knowledge of my Parents, that by them.
I may not be a stranger to my selfe.

Cal.
That string's not out of Tune, yet still 'tis toucht,
And I no longer now can put him off:
George, you shall, your suit is granted;
But this condition I must have ye seale to,
And then we will deliver eithers deed.

Geo.
'Tis granted.

Calib.
Then know sweet boy that Calib loves thee deare,
Witnesse my pitty on thee at thy birth,
When thy adultrous mother cast thee off,
As fearefull least their close lascivious sinne
Should play the tell-tale of them to the world:
Wherefore thy Mother strove by Art to kill thee,
Even in thy first conception, but still my charmes
I mixt amongst her drugges, whose greater poyson
Prov'd thy Antidotes, kild what should kill,
And in the Casket safe preserv'd my jemme.

Georg.
O my unhappy Fate! am I a Bastard then?

Calib.
Giv't not so grosse a title, but list a little more:
Thy mother saw the more she strove to kill,
The more thou quicknest, and grewst stronger still,
Gave ore the child-bane pills, and from the worlds
Quicke censuring, screend up the knowledge by obscurity,
Save unto me, the closet of her thoughts,
And an attendant hand-maid. But to be briefe,
Maturity being to ripenesse growne,
I plaide Lucinaes part, and snatcht thee
From the knife, aim'd at thy heart; thus having sav'd
Thee, going from thy unnaturall Damme
I bore thee to lifes safety; and since
Thou hast a tongue to speake how I have us'd thee.

George.
Both Nurse and Mother, my duty,
With my thankes gives it acknowledgement:
But could my mother, finding painfull throwes,
Through which I hastned to give her ease,
Before my tender eyes did ope to see the world,
Seeke to intombe me up agen?

Calib.
Urge it no more she did.

George.
Were they asham'd of their owne worke?
How were they titled, Base or Noble pray?

Calib.
Base, and Noble too:
Both base by thee, but noble by descent;
And thou got base, yet maist thou write true gent:
No further satisfaction seeke to know,
I call thee George, thy sur-name I must not shew.

George.
I have enough:
Ime glad I soare above the common wing,
Both base and noble too, they ar bloods that keepe
Two currents in my veines, but they must meete:
Smile honour and assist mee,
Let me thy foote-steppes trace,
My noble deedes shall purge the blood that's base.

Calib.
I feare I have said too much:
Come George for mee.

George.
I am ready mother; farewell the name of Nurse:
Speake, and I grant.

Calib.
Then thus my George;
Thou yet art but an April tender bud:
Before that Month in thee be quite expired
Looke for thy Mother here, an Autumne shaken
Leafe, and falne to th'earth, dead and forgot;
Now if thou lov'st me, as I hope thou dost,
Stay but a little, next puffe of winde makes me but kisse the earth,
And thou hast freedome; say, is it done?

Georg.
My teares deliver't as my deede; 'tis done.

Calib.
That's my sweete boy; and now to give thee further
Triall of my love, to thee alone the ransome shall belong
Of sixe obscur'd Champions in my cave, a sight
Thou never yet beheldst, my loving boy:
Tarpax bring forth those daring Champions
That were sent to kill great Calib,
And confound my charme.
Oh they are come: This is, my George, the fiery youth of Spain,
Cal'd by the name of Iames: this Anthony of Italy:
This the brave Northerne Knight, brave Andrew:
This Irelands, Patricke: Brittaines David this:
And this the lively briske crosse capring French man Denis:
There take 'em to thee, use em as thou please;
Their armour and their weapons too are thine:
With which the scare-crowes came to fright us hence.

Georg.
A sight would pierce a rocke,
Goodly shapt persons, how I suffer for them?
But yet I must dissemble love and pitty:
Are these 'em Mother? take them away,
They have beene us'd too well; wee'le thinke
Of harder paine and courser fare.

Calib.
Thats my best George, take this charming wand;
Make tryall of it then against this rocke,
And with once waving it about thy head,
The mortis sinnewed stones shall cleave in sunder,
And gape like an insatiate grave, to swalow up what's theron:
And doe but wish that it should close agen,
Give but the other wave, and it is done:
There George I give it thee.

Thunder and lightning, a groan, Tarpax laughes.
Georg.
Thankes loving Mother.

Calib.
Ha, 'twas Tarpax voyce.

Tar.
Foole, foole, Calib foole.

Calib.
O my feare strooke shaken heart.

Georg.
What ailes my mother?

Calib.
Nay, nothing George: I must a while retire;
Be not you absent, a minutes
Space shall send me back agen.

Exit.
George.
Though borne in bastardy, how happy was my fate,
In this good Calib; she's cruell unto others,
And few or none, whose foote doe chance to stray
Neare the abiding of this great inchantresse,
But deaths therein, to which they travaile to.
A world of fancies dance about my braines,
And shapes me thoughts, which saies I am no bastard:
Or what a warre my selfe hath with my selfe,
And spurres me on to know what Fate denies me:
She told me too my Parentage was noble,
But name and Title she obscur'd from mee:
How, or which way; oh I hav't, I will make tryall
Of her sorcery: she said, what I desir'd to see or know,
This rod wave 'bout my head should amplifie:
Take courage George then, though they lov'd not thee,
Yet thus I doe desire their shapes to see.
Defend me all you ministers of grace.

Thunder and Lightning, then soft musicke: Enter the ghost of Georges father and mother.
Fath.
George.

Moth.
George.

Geo.
J answer to that name: say on.

Fath.
Then first to settle these thy wandring thoughts,
Thou art our sonne, truely legitimate;
Vomit the thought of Bastard, thou art none,
But heire to the Earle of Coventry.

Geo.
O say, resolve me compleat shadows of my Parents,
Vpon my knees with Reverence I bow, tell me, oh tell me,
Since from your ayrie shapes I heare both sound & voice
Adde to distressed George a second birth and life,
In saying that yee live.

Fath.
O no.

Mo.
O No.

Geo.
How soone fresh flowers fall, which now did grow.

Fath.
Delay not long thy Parents rest my George,
Heare a briefe story, and then send me hence:
Know then that cursed Calib, which now doates on thee,
Did not at first doe so, but poison'd us,
And fled with thee away unto that Cell of horrour,
Secur'd by her inchantments from all danger,
Then hir intents not satisfied with both our lives,
Began to prey on thine; but pitty, spight of Hell,
Flew from thine eyes, and overthrew the Murdresse black intent:
That since th'ast liv'd in love and favour with her.
But now be wise, her power is in thy hand.
Oh then be swift, be swift to execute
Thy Parents murder on the damned witch:
That done, redeeme the Christian Champions, go with them,
Her Cave is not unfurnisht of rich Armes;
Fame holds the Christian Trophy thou must beare,
Englands Red Crosse shall George, then St. George weare,
That summond us, back sends us: George waft thy wand.

Geo.
Farewell.

Exit.
Both.
Farewell deare son.

Thunder & lightning.
Geo.
Go rest, go rest sweet shadows, be no more disturb'd,
All my sick passions, that late were scatter'd with
My troubled thoughts, are re-united in this little Orbe:
But for this Calib, this accursed Hagge,
Whose deeds are blacker than her tempting tutors,
Revenge hath fill'd her cup unto the brim,
And she shall quaffe her foule soules black perdition.

Both.
Protract not George, we rest not till she dies.

Geo.
No more, no more, revenge like lightning flies.

Exit.
A noise within: Enter Witch, Tarpax, with other spirits arm'd, Clowne with them, Thundring and Lightning.
Cal.
Shield me my Tarpax from the furious boy,
That hurries to my death more swifter
Than the hot fiery Steeds, that threw
Ambitious Phaeton from his pride: defend me then.

Tar.
Calib, we cannot.
Thy power's extinct, and thou thy selfe must fall:
Did dotage on thy Deaths-man blind thee so,
To give thy safe protection and thy power to him?
Now arm'd with both, comes to destroy thee.
Fie Calib, fie, could not the Riddle which I read to thee,
When thou desired'st the knowledge of thy doome,
Forewarne thee then? Prepare, he comes.

Cal.
Hell and confusion.

Tar.
I, confusion comes.

Cal.
How comes he? arm'd?

Tar.
One hand thy power, the other beares a Falchion.

Cal.
Oh gentle Tarpax, numbe his sences so,
That he forget the power of his wand, we may be safe.

Tar.
He comes, he comes.

Cal.
Circle me round, and keepe him off a while,
Whilst on the outside of this Rocke I climbe
Vp by the crags unto the top.

Thundring & lightning: Enter George in a fury, the spirits keepe him backe.
Geo.
Have I found thee witch?
I'le not be long from thy accursed heart;
The bastard, hagge, is prov'd legitimate heire
To great Coventry, whom thou, thou devill,
Worse than those that guard thee, murther'd.
But in despight of all thy hellish hoast,
Who faint against the justice of my cause,
I thus assay thee.

Tar.
Thus we defend her.

Cal.
Fight sweet spirits, fight, kill but that boy,
I'le let ope Rivers of my blood to you,
And you shall drinke your fill.

Geo.
This instrument is not of power to deale with fiends.

Cal.
Destroy him Tarpax, let not the villaine breath.

Geo.
I will make tryall of this other toole.

Tar.
Calib farwell, we can no longer stay,
Wee'le meete thee strait in flames, our joviall day.

Cal.
Now cleaves the Rock, and I doe sinke to Hell;
Roare wind, clap Thunder for great Calibs knell.

Musick: the Rocke cleaves, she sinkes; thunder & lightning.
Geo.
Sinke downe unto thy black infernall fellows hagge.
This messenger assures me Heaven's pleas'd,
At whose sweet ayre the other ayre dissolves,
And all the black inchanted vapours hell cast up,
Descends to make her night more horrid there:
And now those woods that were so long choak't up
With Hells black sulpher and disastrous fumes,
Give welcome to the golden eye of day,
As a most cheerefull and blest visitant.
But stay a little, all is not firmely finisht,
There is an unlickt lumpe of hers remaines,
Suckabus her son: oh are ye there sir? Come, prepare ye.

Clow.
Alas sir, what to doe?

Geo.
To make a brand for the devills fire:
I'le cut your throate, and send you thither strait.

Clow.
I doe beseech you sir, have no compassion on me,
And let me live with you:
There be Cookes enough in hell without me,
Their roast-meate is too hot for my fingers,
I shall never be able to licke 'em; I had rather be
Your Scullian here, than Cooke Ruffian there:
I beseech you take pitty on me a Motherlesse child,
Let me live with you sir, and Suckabus shall suck
Out his owne heart to doe you any pleasure.

Geo.
Well, take thy life, be faithfull in my service,
Thy Mothers sin hath perisht with her life:
Learne thou by her example then to shun it,
Be my attendant still and follow me.

Clown.
I thanke you sir, and for this life that you have sav'd,
Thinke it no life, for it is not; you may command,
And have it when you please; and I'le be as firme to you
As fire in water, as tender as the Foxe o're the Goose,
Or the Wolfe o're the Lambe; when you are most
In any danger, I'le be farthest off from yee;
Disobey your commands, and keepe your secrets like a cryer,
Or anything else I can doe for you.

Geo.
Well sir, wee'le conster your good meaning,
I long to be in armour, mounted on a Steed,
To scuffle with black danger and her bug-beares:
First Ile set free those Knights, and cherish them;
Then see how long lost armour sits upon their backs,
That done to Armes, to hunt out Honours game,
For George is no George till I purchase fame.

Exit.
As they go off, Tarpax comes in, and beckons to the Clowne.
Tar.
Illo hist, Suckabus come hither.

Clowne.
I cannot; doe not you see my Master gone before?
I am now bound, and must obey, must follow after:
You have fry'd my mother in stekes by this time,
And you would have my Lambe stones and sweet-bread
To inch out your commons.

Tar.
Come backe, or I will force thee.

Clowne.

Sfoote Ile set all the prentises in the house about
your eares if you strike me, besides the Law my Master shall

take of yee; but now I remember Club Law is better: for
they love your Angels so wel there's no pleading against you.

Tarp.

My Angels slave?

Clown.

Why any bodies, yours, or the Divells, all's one
to them, so they have 'em: but now the humour has tooke me
to come backe; what is your pleasure?

Tar.
Onely a short remembrance of your duty,
With an acknowledgement you have a father, and al's done:
My blessing shall attend thee.

Clowne.

Let me first know, whether I have a mother or no,
for mothers have so often belide the childes father, that I am
very doubtfull whether ever I had any.

Tar.
Cast off those doubts then, I am thy Father,
Calib was thy mother, was? nay is,
Though strange it seemes to thee,
Earth was too base to hold so great a Queene:
Didst thou not note the love 'twixt George and she?

Clowne.

Nay truely Father I did note something, but I cannot
say directly what it was.

Tar.
'Twas love, great love betwixt 'em boy,
But in the bottome of their honey cup I mixt
A little dregges of bitter gall, which straight
Converted all their love to hate, and in that hate,
That George, thy master, sought her death:
But by my power I clave the rocke in twaine,
Whose carefull subjects underneath were ready
To catch her in their armes, who when they had her;
Those flames ascending up, which put such horrour into her,
Were Bone-fires of their joy and loving hearts.

Clowne.
O that I were there to leape over one of them.

Tar.
I, they would make thee leap.

Clowne.
And I am old dogge at that 'yfaith.

Tar.
And now thy mother's in my Kingdome, boy,
By this time crown'd with their applausive
Shouts, Queene of Helvetia.

Clowne.
O my sweet Mother:

Well, Ile but serve my time out, and come home to you: you

have staid me something long Father, I must goe eate a dish
of Trotters to my breakfast, I shall hardly overtake my
Master else.

Tar.
Observe this fatherly instruction first:
Thou art to travaile with thy Master, boy,
Through perrilous adventures, all sorts of
Countries, fashions, garbes and manners,
Thou must observe thou art effeminate in shape and favour,
Iust thy sweete mothers, sweete hu'd faire Effigies,
Fram'd to make woemen doe ate and flye
To thee; refuse 'em not, take all that comes,
Increase the world like one of Tarpax sonnes.

Clowne.
As long as my backe will hold let me alone.

Tarp.
And when thou com'st in company of men,
What ere they be, refuse not what they do;
If they quaffe Wine by Gallons, do so too:
Or cloud the aire with India's precious weede,
Kindle that fuell; let thy Chimny smoak too.

Clowne.
Like a Fury.

Tarp.
Swallow no wrong, stabbe if they give the lie;
Sweare and forsweare; the rules of galantry.

Clowne.

If e're a Knight of the Post mend me for that,
hang me.

Tar.
Lye to get profit; borrow, pay no debts,
Cheat and purloyne, thy are gaming Dicers bets.

Clowne.
If Cottington out doe me Ile be whipt.

Tar.
Love ease and sleepe, it ripes the memory:
But in each sleepe have severall sleepers by thee:
Females, no men, I charge thee on my blessing.

Clowne.
Ile take my choyce here if you will.

Tar.
No, no, goe travaile farther first;
These rules if thou observ'st and keep'st,
Thou soone shalt see thy mother.

Clowne.
It shall be my daily practice Father:
Farewell if I see you no more.

Tar.
O we must meete agen nere feare't:
Obey but my commands; so farewell sonne,
Blessing on my boy.

Clowne.
Father farewell:
I were an ungracious boy if I would not obey.
Now wenches looke to yourselves.

Exit.
Enter Andrew, David, Patricke, George, Denis, James, Anthony, all arm'd and plum'd.
George.
Renowned Christian Knights welcome to liberty,
The blacke Inchantresse, by whose hell-bred power,
Bright honour was subdu'd, and pinniond up darke,
Is now her selfe fetter'd and manicl'd in the store-house
Where her accursed crimes can never
Pay the summe that ransomes her.

All.
Our loves, our honours, and our lives
Rest pawnes to George of England for this favour.

David.
Which we akcnowledge with a generall thanks.

Georg.
Thus doe I cancell all those bonds but love,
There rest my debtor still, as I will yours:
The lazy dust, that long hath hid your guilt,
Is now brush't off, and you new polish't to the world agen:
Sift the dead Ashes ere they kill the sparkes,
And let Fames wings fanne 'em to glorious flames;
Shine bright my Christian Comets of the world,
And English George, whom these your loves hath made
Seventh brother with you, in the Schoole of Armes
Shall prove no truant, Noble Christian Knights.

And.
Let Scotlands Andrew be the mount, brave youth,
From whence thy beames may take a prospective,
To see, to wish, to have, to rule the same.

David.
Brave maiden Knight, raise me another hill
Upon his mount, a Beacon upon that,
Which kindled, all the world may see the flame,
And Fame cry out, I'me wearied with thy Fame.

Denis.
The Sybels have fore-told no more but seven,
The odde man now is come, and all is even.

Pat.
Even in our loves, even in what heaven us sends;
Still Pagans scourges, and still Christians friends:

Den.
Then let us seven defend the Christians name:
And let George beare the Trophy of our fame.

Iames.
Advance it youth; let thy white standard beare
A bloody Crosse, to fill the world with feare.

Georg.
I crave a generall voyce, are all so pleas'd?

All.
We are.

George.
Let us imbrace, and seale it with each breast:
And here behold your maiden Knight doth draw
Defence to all that wrong insultion treads on:
First in our cause 'gainst those fell miscreants,
That trample on the Christians sacred Crosse,
Lifting aloft the Mahometane Moone,
Dishonour both to heaven and Christendome:
Next to maintaine by force and dint of Armes
Opressed Ladies wrongs, widowes, & Orphans, or who else,
Which wrongfully dares tread within a List;
And further let this Christian power extend
'Gainst blacke Inchantments, witchcraft, and the like,
That Arts foule potency may meete us with.

All.
All this we sweare too on thy maiden sword.

Georg.
It shall suffice; the Brazen Piller's not farre,
Vnto whose circuits knits the heads and paths
Of seven faire severall wayes:
Honour we altogether winne, is not to one:
Then let us part, and as we part proclaime,
Whose Champions we goe forth to purchase fame.
George for brave England stands.

Den.
Denis for brave France.

And.
The bony Scotland Andrew will advance.

Iam.
Iames stands for Spaine.

Pat.
Patricke for Ireland.

David.
And David will the Brittaines name defend.

Anton.
The Reare is brought up by Anthony,
Who goes a Champion forth for Jtaly.

Georg.
Bravely resolv'd, at all the world we'le play,
But Christendome that is our tiring house,
The rest our stage.
On which our buskin seames must wade in blood,
But time no trifling loves, nor staies for none,
Lets mount, and part, honour is yet unwonne.

Exeunt omnes.