_Genzerick_, King of the _Vandals_. _Anthonio_ | _Damianus_ | 3 Noble men. _Cosmo_ | _Hubert_, A brave Commander. _Henerick_, the Prince. _Bellizarius_, the Generall. _Eugenius_, a Christian Bishop. _Epidaurus_, a Lord. 2 Physitians. 2 Pagans. 1 Camell-driver. 2 Camell-driver. _Victoria_, Wife to _Bellizarius_. _Bellina_, his Daughter. A Souldier. 2 Angels. 2 Christians tonguelesse. Clowne. Constable. 3 Watchmen. 3 Huntsmen. 3 Other Camell-drivers. Officers and Souldiers. The Martyr'd Souldier. _Actus Primus_. SCAENA PRIMA. _Enter Genzerick King of the Vandalls, sicke on his bed, Anthony, Damianus, Cosmo, and Lords_. _King_. Away, leave off your golden Flatteries, I know I cannot live, there's one lies here Brings me the newes; my glories and my greatnes Are come to nothing. _Anth_. Be not your selfe the Bell To tolle you to the Grave; and the good Fates, For ought we see, may winde upon your bottome[132] A thred of excellent length. _Cosm_. We hope the Gods have not such rugged hands To snatch yee from us. _King_. _Cosmo, Damianus_, and _Anthony_; you upon whom The _Vandall_ State doth leane, for my back's too weake; I tell you once agen that surly Monarch, Who treads on all Kings throats, hath sent to me His proud Embassadours: I have given them Audience Here in our Chamber Royall. Nor could that move me, To meete Death face to face, were my great worke Once perfected in _Affrick_ by my sonne; I meane that generall sacrifice of Christians, Whose blood would wash the Temples of our gods And win them bow downe their immortall eyes Upon our offerings. Yet, I talke not idly, Yet, _Anthonie_, I may; for sleepe, I think, Is gone out of my kingdome, it is else fled To th'poore; for sleepe oft takes the harder bed And leaves the downy pillow of a King. _Cosm_. Try, Sir, if Musick can procure you[133] rest. _King_. _Cosmo_, 'tis sinne to spend a thing so precious On him that cannot weare it. No, no; no Musick; But if you needs will charme my o're-watcht eyes, Now growne too monstrous for their lids to close, If you so long to fill these Musick-roomes With ravishing sounds indeed; unclaspe that booke, Turne o're that Monument of Martyrdomes, Read there how _Genzerick_ has serv'd the gods And made their Altars drunke with Christians blood, Whil'st their loath'd bodies flung in funerall piles Like Incense burnt in Pyramids of fire; And when their flesh and bones were all consum'd Their ashes up in whirle-winds flew i'th Ayre To show that of foure Elements not one had care Of them, dead or alive. Read, _Anthony_. _Anth_. 'Tis swelld to a faire Volume. _King_. Would I liv'd To add a second part too't. Read, and listen: No _Vandall_ ere writ such a Chronicle. _Anth_. Five hundred[134] broyl'd to death in Oyle and Lead: Seven hundred flead alive, their Carkasses Throwne to King _Genzericks_ hounds. _King_. Ha, ha, brave hunting.