[_Exit._ ELE. By heaven's great star, which Indians do adore, But that I hate to hear the giddy world Shame, that I waded to a crown through blood, I'd not digest his pills: but since, my lords, You have chosen Eleazar for your king, Invest me with a general applause. ALL. Live, Eleazar, Castile's royal king! ROD. A villain and a base-born fugitive. [_Aside._] CHRIS. A bloody tyrant and usurping slave. [_Aside._] ELE. Thanks to you all: 'tis not the Spanish crown That Eleazar strives for, but Spain's peace. Amongst you I'll divide her empery: Christofero shall wear Granada's crown; To Roderigo I'll give Arragon; Naples, Navarre, and fair Jerusalem I'll give to other three; and then our viceroys Shall shine about our bright Castilian crown, As stars about the sun. Cry all, arm, arm; Prince Philip and the cardinal do ride Like Jove in thunder; in a storm we'll meet them. Go, levy powers; if any man must fall, My death shall first begin the funeral. [_Exeunt._ SCENE V. _Enter_ ZARACK _and_ BALTHAZAR, _with calivers_. BAL. Is thy cock ready, and thy powder dry? ZAR. My cock stands perching like a cock o' the game, with a red coal for his crest, instead of a comb; and for my powder, 'tis but touch and take. BAL. I have tickling gear too; anon I'll cry, here I have it, and yonder I see it. But, Zarack, is't policy for us to kill these bald-pates? ZAR. Is't policy for us to save ourselves? If they live, we die. Is't not wisdom then to send them to heaven, rather than be sent ourselves? Come, you black slave, be resolute. This way they come; here they will stand, and yonder will I stand. BAL. And in yonder hole I. ZAR. Our amiable faces cannot be seen if we keep close; therefore hide your cock's head, lest his burning cock's-comb betray us. But soft; which of the two shall be thy white?[65] BAL. That black villain friar Cole. ZAR. I shall have a sharp piece of service; friar Crab shall be my man. Farewell, and be resolute. BAL. Zounds! Zarack, I shall never have the heart to do it. ZAR. You rogue, think who commands--Eleazar. Who shall rise--Balthazar. Who shall die--a lousy friar. Who shall live--our good lord and master, the negro-king of Spain. BAL. Cole, thou art but a dead man, and shalt turn to ashes. [_Exit._ ZAR. Crab, here's that shall make vinegar of thy carcase. [_Exit._ _Enter_ CRAB _and_ COLE, _two friars, with a rout of stinkards following them_. CRAB. Ah! brother, 'tis best so. Now we have drawn them to a head, we'll begin here i' the market-place. Tut, so long as we be commanded by the mother-queen, we'll say her son is a bastard, an' he were ten Philips. COLE. Take you one market-form, I'll take another. CRAB. No, God's-so',[66] we must both keep one form. COLE. Ay, in oration, but not in station. Mount, mount. 1ST STINK. Well, my masters, you know him not so well as I, on my word. Friar Crab is a sour fellow.