_Hub_. So I heare; you see, then, There is an arme more rigorous than your _Iove_, An arme stretcht from above to beate down Gyants, The mightiest Kings on _Earth_, for all their shoulders Carry _Colossi_ heads: the memory Of _Genzericks_ name dyes here: _Henricke_ gives buriall To the successive glory of that race Who had both voyce and title to the Crowne, And meanes to guard it.--Who must now be King? _Anton_. We know not till we call the Lords together. _Hub_. What Lords? _Cosmo_. Our selves and others. _Hub_. Who makes you Lords? The Tree upon whose boughs your honours grew, Your Lordships and your lives, is falne to th'ground. _Dam_. We stand on our owne strength. _Hub_. Who must be King? _Within: A Hubert, a Hubert a Hubert_! _Hub_. Deliver to my hand that reverent [_sic_] man. _Epi_. Take him and torture him, for he cald down Vengeance On _Henricks_ head. _Hub_. Good _Eugenius_, lift thy hands up, For thou art say'd from _Henricke_ and from these. You heare what ecchoes Rebound from earth to heaven, from heaven to earth, Casting the name of King onely on me? This golden apple is a tempting fruit; It is within my reach; this sword can touch it, And lop the weake branch off on which it hangs. Which of you all would spurne at such a Starre, Lay it i'th the dust when 'tis let down from heaven For him to weare? _Anton_. Who then must weare that Starre? _Within: Hubert, Hubert, Hubert_! _Hub_. The Oracle tells you; Oracle? 'tis a voyce From above tells you; for the peoples tongues, When they pronounce good things, are ty'd to chaines Of twenty thousand linkes, which chaines are held By one supernall hand, and cannot speake But what that hand will suffer. I have then The people on my side; I have the souldiers; I have that army which your rash young King Had bent against the Christians,--they now are mine: I am the Center, and they all are lines Meeting in me. If, therefore, these strong sinewes, The Souldiers and the Commons, have a vertue To lift me into the Throne, Ile leape into it. Will you consent or no? be quick in answer; I must be swift in execution else. _Omnes_. Let us consult. _Hub_. Doe, and doe't quickly. _Eugen_. O noble Sir, if you be King shoot forth Bright as a Sunne-beame, and dry up these vapours That choake this kingdome; dry the seas of blood Flowing from Christians, and drinke up the teares Of those alive, halfe slaughter'd in their feares. _Hub_. Father, Ile not offend you.--Have you done? So long chusing one Crowne? _Anton_. Let Drums and Trumpets proclaime _Hubert_ our King! _Omnes_. Sound Drummes and Trumpets!