 | Love and War |  |
Scen. 3.
Burgargo following the flight.Bur.
Stand stil your ground, the day breaks from the
Skies, for to discern the foe, my hands are
over loaded by the spoyls of this days labour,
While some lie gasping, others crying loud,
Here leggs, there arms, all bodies mortified,
My spirit thirsts to see the Prince Hollarro,
And to change Gloves with him, try valour at
The point of naked nimble swords.
Oh Goddesse blind, thou fortune hath inforc'd,
To shew my progress of my lingering dayes
In this brave soul, so stand prepare to fight.
Hol.
Your worthy carriage shews as much, nay more
After the encounter of our steelly blades,
Let after victory either rise or fall;
And let Astrea poyse the truest cause
By this the combate of our martial will,
So General come on; stand, see your selfe.
Bur.
Your valour's to be prais'd he that dare
Twist his hand with me, must have a grace
More then such young years can put forth;
I praise thy courage, but not thy discretion,
Because thou runs upon thy death.
[They fight, and he wounds Hollarro.
Hol.
Desist your purpose, so, till I close my wound,
The blood speaks on my cause, a fury leads
My temper now, stand still and pause, and then
I will renew the second blow.
Bur.
Vain purpose of your will, to strive with him
Who alwayes return'd with victory in his hands,
strive with a weaker hand for to oppose
A decreed sense which is much stronger;
Yet shall it not be utter'd with a voyce
I kill'd thee unawares, but take thy time.
Holl.
Rest upon your blade, ground its point,
The time runs in swift motion to one
Of our ends, the Elizium field doth open
Large her panting soul, for to disgorge
The vicious humour of our Fabricke,
Within that space, the which we shall possesse,
Rewards stand ushering in our power,
To have the Crown allotted by those Saints;
Come lend your force again, I now prepare
For to receive my death by your unnaturall
Hand.
Bur.
Fortune support then both our hands,
Valour with-drawes unskilful helps,
And shews a fair prospect to a foul design.
[They fight, and he gives Burgargo a deadly wound.
Burg.
Hold, hold, I dye, take you the day,
And Crown your self with Trophies of my blood,
Your riper years sprung in a blossome stout,
Shall be Encomium to Bruzantia;
My spirit it doth vanish, as my blood
Flowes from the veins, sending by legate cause
All praise to your most severe stoutest arm.
[sighs.
Oh, my breath is prov'd an airy substance now,
I wish it were confin'd a longer space
To run its course, that I my King may shew,
The man gave me this wound, him to exalt
Above the rest by Title, degree and honour.
[sighs.
Oh, now the fading hour-glass consumes its sand,
Each corn a drop of blood, and the three fates
Come with their hungry appetite to cut
My fatall end, and blood doth bubble by
The hottest combate that us two did fight:
[sighs.
Oh, I must I must, the bones begin to be
Afraid of flesh, the sinews stand at difference,
All my body cold, save onely heart, doth
Leap by its extremity of pains, and
I come, I come, make room
Amongst you, ghosts, see there be place for
Me, [Falls down, and dies.
I dye.
Hol.
Thou dyes then like a man, whose breath did bear
The whole Numenia's Land in a subjection,
The onely pillar of thy Countries good,
Death hath surpris'd the conquest of thy soul,
And this thy trickling blood that's here display'd,
Doth shew thy progeny to take its flight
From Brutus, or other greater Monarch,
My spirit's sorry for such a thrice noble friend.
Derisius enters.
Holl.
Return, return, thou runs upon thy death.
Deris.
Draw in that sulphurous breath: I live! and
Here my Generall he lies slain; no, no,
[Fight, Deris. falls and dyes.
Hol.
Die slave, as thou hast been ordained.
[Exit Hol.
Quer. turns the bodies over and over, to see whether they be dead or no.
Quer.
Robin dead, dead? Jack, dead, dead? are you
Or no?—faith if you be not I'le make you,
[He drawes his Sword.
I'le panch you, Rogues, and make you know
What I am,—what not
[Deris. shakes his legge, and Quer. runs away, but after draws nigh again.
Dead still, but stir you, hang
You, hang you I'le have one of you sure
Enough; come away, come away come—come—
He trayles Deris. off the Stage, by his head.
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