ELE. This is excellent! Hire these to write books, preach, and proclaim abroad That your son Philip is a bastard. QUEEN-M. How? ELE. A bastard. Do you know a bastard? do't: Say conscience spake with you, and cried out do't; By this means shall you thrust him from all hope Of wearing Castile's diadem, and, that spur Galling his sides, he will fly out and fling, And grind the cardinal's heart to a new edge Of discontent; from discontent grows treason, And on the stalk of treason, death: he's dead, By this blow and by you; yet no blood shed. Do't then; by this trick he is gone. We stand more sure in climbing high; Care not who fall, 'tis real policy: are you Arm'd to do this, ha? QUEEN-M. Sweet Moor, it is done. ELE. Away then; work with boldness and with speed: On greatest actions greatest dangers feed. [_Exit_ QUEEN-MOTHER. Ha, ha! I thank thee, provident creation, That seeing[55] in moulding me thou didst intend I should prove villain; thanks to thee and nature, That skilful workman: thanks for my face: Thanks that I have not wit to blush! What, Zarack! ho, Balthazar! _Enter the two_ MOORS. BOTH. My lord. ELE. Nearer. So: silence! Hang both your greedy ears upon my lips; Let them devour my speech, suck in my breath, and in. Who let's it break prison, here is his death. This night the card'nal shall be murder'd. BOTH. Where? ELE. And to fill up a grave Philip dies. BOTH. Where? ELE. Here. BOTH. By whom? ELE. By thee, and, slave, by thee. Have you [the] hearts and hands to execute? BOTH. Here's both. 1ST MOOR. He dies, were he my father. ELE. Ho, away. Stay--go, go--stay; see me no more till night. Your cheeks are black; let not your souls look white. BOTH. Till night? ELE. Till night: a word! the Mother-Queen Is trying, if she can, with fire of gold Warp the green consciences of two covetous friars To preach abroad Philip's bastardy. _1st Moor._ His bastardy! who was his father? ELE. Who? Search for these friars: hire them to work with you. Their holy callings will approve the fact Most good and meritorious: sin shines clear, When her black face religion's mask doth wear. Here comes the queen--good--and the friars. SCENE III. _Enter two friars_, CRAB _and_ COLE, _and_ QUEEN-MOTHER. COLE. Your son a bastard? say, we do; But how then shall we deal with you? I tell you, as I said before, His being a bastard, you are so poor In honour and in name, that time Can never take away the crime. QUEEN-M. I grant that, friar; yet rather I'll endure The wound of infamy to kill my name, Than to see Spain bleeding with civil swords. The boy is proud, ambitious; he woos greatness; He takes up Spanish hearts on trust to pay them, When he shall finger Castile's crown. O, then, Were it not better my disgrace were known, Than such a base aspirer fill the throne? COLE. Ha, brother Crab, what think you? CRAB. As you, dear brother Cole.