University of Virginia Library

Scen. 4.

A great noyse within of landing! and afterwards, they cry, (Kill all, kill all, &c.) and by and by, enters Celerinus, Bellerrio, Gervoron, Burnomoy, Souldiers, Ensigns, and Drums, Flourish.
Aber.
What is the news within? Heavens bless me!
What is't?

Adr.
I wish all things were right, then see,
My Lords.

Nev.
A foul invasion, we are betraid,
Celerinus comes.

Cele.
I, and die you shall;
[Fight.
Fall on brave souls, let's ruine root and branch,
Like the Hybernian blades, sound a loud,
Lead up the fronts; strike, strike.

Faf.
Oh Traytor, traytor.

Bell.
Die, die, thou slave.

Celer.
Wound not the Queen: let her pains rest, to be
A future punishment.

Aber.
Oh I die, I die, thou vain destroyer
Of mens lives.

[Here all Aberdens side, with himself, is kill'd, save onely Adrenimia, who is chain'd, and carried out; and Hollarro, who defends himselfe, and escapes, and takes Lerenica with him.
Cel.
Conduct the Queen to prison,
The day's our own, with the Supreams of th'Land.

Bur.
We will, great Leige, let's follow out the chaise.

Exeunt, march.
Quermero with a dish full of furmity.
Quer.
Oh me, stay, what's here to do? what, a sleep? or tumbling;
Pox take't, you'l break your brains with it, and I
My belly with plum pottage; rise for shame:
What, is here the slave that imprison'd me;
A bard, a burd, or a turd, tell; what, art thou
Dead, alive, or drunk; rise, and stand,
[Takes the Kings Cloak, and puts it on wrong side outwards.
Thou haste a velvet Cloak I'le see how it fits me,
Hey, it becomes my Princely person right.
I look like some grave Minister or Divine,
A black blew velvet, and scarlet gippo;
See, my foot stands like some reverend Bishop,
And my back-side like a Prince behind;
These pottage, pottage, trouble, when I King;
But stay, they'l do me courtesie at time,
I'le put them up; hold up velvet Jacket;
[Puts the Pottage in his pocket.
Oh these are warm still from the heart to th'breast;
But for all my jesting, what do you mean
To go to dinner or no? I'le promise
Here's good furmity for the same, Come go?
What, you are mad sure: but if you be,
I'le right your senses straight to its same form:
[He kicks them.
Oh how their guts cry Pease and Bacon hot:
[Nevermo pisseth.
I'l break the Pitcher and let the juyce out,
As hot as my pottage; stay, where are they?
Ho, in my pocket, in my pocket,