PHIL. I'll beat that dog to death that sounds retreat. K. OF PORT. Philip! PHIL. I'll tear his heart out that dares name that sound. K. OF PORT. Sound a retreat. PHIL. Who's that? you tempt my sword, sir; Continue this alarum, fight pell-mell; Fight, kill, be damn'd. This fat-back, coward cardinal Lies heavy on my shoulders; this, ay, this, Shall fling him off. Sound a retreat? Zounds! you mad me! Ambition plumes the Moor, whilst black despair, Offering to tear from him the diadem Which he usurps, makes him to cry at all, And to act deeds beyond astonishment. But Philip is the night that darks his glories: This sword, yet reeking with his negro's blood, Being grasp'd by equity and this strong arm, Shall through and through. ALL. Away, then! PHIL. From before me. Stay, stand, stand fast: fight. A Moor, a Moor. SCENE III. _Enter_ ELEAZAR, ZARACK, BALTHAZAR, RODERIGO, CHRISTOFERO, _and others; they fight: Moors are all beat in. Exeunt omnes. Manet_ ELEAZAR, _weary; a Moor lies slain_. ELE. O, for more work, more souls to post to hell, That I might pile up Charon's boat so full, Until it topple o'er! O, 'twould be sport To see them sprawl through the black slimy lake. Ha, ha! there's one going thither: sirrah! you, You slave, who kill'd thee? How he grins! this breast, Had it been temper'd and made proof like mine, It never would have been a mark for fools To hit afar off with their dastard bullets. But thou didst well; thou knew'st I was thy lord, And out of love and duty to me here, Where I fell weary, thou laidst down thyself To bear me up thus: God-a-mercy, slave, A king for this shall give thee a rich grave. _As he sits down, enter_ PHILIP _with a broken sword_. PHIL. I'll wear thee to the pommel, but I'll find The subject of mine honour and revenge. Moor, 'tis for thee I seek! come, now, now take me At good advantage. Speak! where art thou? ELE. Here! PHIL. Fate and revenge, I thank you. Rise! ELE. Leave and live. PHIL. Villain, it is Philippo that bids rise. ELE. It had been good for thee to have hid thy name; For the discovery, like to a dangerous charm, Hurts him that finds it. Wherefore do those bloodhounds, Thy rage and valour, chase me? PHIL. Why? to kill thee. ELE. With that? what, a blunt axe! Think'st thou, I'll let Thy fury take a full blow at this head, Having these arms? Be wise, go change thy weapon. PHIL. O sir! ELE. I'll stay thy coming. PHIL. Thou'lt be damn'd first. ELE. By all our Indian gods----