[_Above._
PHIL. Health wait upon this royal company.
KING. Knows she we are here?
ANT. O no, my lord, 'tis to the twins of treason: Machiavel and Raymond.
FUL. Royal! there's something in't.
ALER. It smells rank o' th' traitor.
PAN. Are you i' th' wind on't?
AUR. Will you leave us?
PHIL. I cannot stay; O, I am sick to death!
[_Exit._
AUR. Or I'll never trust poison more.
[_Aside._
MACH. Pray, seat yourselves, Gentlemen; though your deserts have merit,
[_They sit about the table._
And your worths have deserv'd nobly; But ingratitude, that should be banish'd From a prince's breast, is Philip's favourite.
KING. [_Above._] Philip, traitor! why not king? I am so.
ANT. Patience, good my lord; I'll down.
[_Exit._
MACH. It lives too near him: You, that have ventur'd with expense of blood And danger of your lives, to rivet him Unto his seat with peace: you, that in war He term'd his Atlases, and press'd with praises Your brawny shoulders; call'd you his Colossuses, And said your looks frighted tall war Out of his territories: now in peace [behold]
The issue of your labour. This bad man-- Philip, I mean--made of ingratitude, Wo' not afford a name, that may distinguish Your worthy selves from cowards; [while]
Civet cats spotted with rats'-dung, Or a face, like white broth strew'd o'er with currants For a stirring caper or itching dance, to please My lady Vanity, shall be made a smock-knight.
KING. [_Above._] Villain! must our disgrace mount thee?
FUL. To what tends this?
ALER. What means Count Machiavel?
_Enter_ ANTONIO _below_.
AUR. To be your king; fie on this circumstance!
My longing will not brook it: say, Will you obey us as your kings and queens.
[_Aside._
FUL. My Lord Antonio!
ANT. Confine yourselves, the king is within hearing; therefore make show of liking Machiavel's plot: let him mount high, his fall will be the deeper: my life, you shall be safe.
[_Aside._
AUR. Say, are you agreed?
RAY. If not, we'll force you to't: Speak, Frenchman, are our forces i' th' city?
GIO. Oui, mounsier.
ALER. } FUL. } We acknowledge you our king.
PAN. }
KING. More traitors!
MACH. Why----_then_.
[_The_ BRAVO _stabs_ RAYMOND.
RAY. Ha! from whence this sudden mischief?
Did you not see a hand arm'd with the fatal Ruin of my life?
GIO. Non pas, signor.
MACH. Ha, ha, ha! lay hold on those French soldiers: Away with them!
[_Exeunt Guard with the French Colonels._
RAY. Was't thy plot, Machiavel? go laughing to thy grave.
[_Stabs him._
AUR. Alas! my lord is wounded.
RAY. Come hither, Frenchman, make a dying man Bound to thy love; go to Philippa, Sickly as she is, bring her unto me; Or my flying soul will not depart in peace else: Prythee, make haste: yet stay, I have not breath To pay thy labour.
Shrink ye, you twin-born Atlases, that bear This my near-ruin'd world; have you not strength To bear a curse, whose breath may taint the air, That this globe may feel an universal plague?
No; yet bear up, till with a vengeful eye I outstare day, and from the dogged sky Pluck my impartial star. O, my blood Is frozen in my veins--farewell, revenge--me--
[_Dies._
ALER. They need no law.
FUL. Nor hangman.
PAN. They condemn and execute without a jury.