ELE. Ah! I may curse his praises, rather ban Mine own nativity: why did this colour Dart in my flesh so far! O, would my face Were of Hortenzo's fashion; else would yours Were as black as mine is. ISA. Mine like yours? why? ELE. Hark, I love you; yes, faith, I said this--I love you. I do--leave him. ISA. Damnation! vanish from me. ELE. Coy! Were you as hard as flint, O, you should yield Like soften'd wax; were you as pure as fire, I'd touch you; yes, I'll taint you: see you this? I'll bring you to this lure. ISA. If I want hands To kill myself, before thou dost it, do. ELE. I'll cut away your hands. Well, my desire Is raging as the sea, and mad as fire. Will you? ISA. Torment me not, good devil. ELE. Will you. ISA. I'll tear mine eyes out, if they tempt thy lust. ELE. Do. ISA. Touch me not; these knives---- ELE. Ha, ha! kill yourself, Because I jest with you! I wrong Hortenzo. Settle your thoughts, 'twas but a trick to try That which few women have, true constancy. ISA. If then my speeches taste of gall---- ELE. Nay, faith, You are not bitter; no; you should have rail'd, Have spit upon me, spurn'd me; you're not bitter: Why, do you think that I would nurse a thought, To hurt your honour? If that thought had brains, I'd beat them out. But come; by this Hortenzo Is fast. ISA. Ha! fast? ELE. Ay, fast--in Philip's arms; Wrestling together for the prize of love; By this they're on the way: I'll be your guard; Come, follow me; I'll lead you in the van, Where [_Aside_] thou shalt see four chins upon one chain. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. HORTENZO, QUEEN-MOTHER, CARDINAL, _and_ PHILIP, _chained by the necks_. ZARACK _and_ BALTHAZAR _busy about fastening_ HORTENZO. HOR. You damned ministers of villany, Sworn to damnation by the book of hell; You maps of night, you element of devils, Why do you yoke my neck with iron chains? BAL. Many do borrow chains, but you have this Gratis for nothing. CAR. Slaves, unbind us. BOTH. No. [_Exeunt the two Moors._ PHIL. I am impatient; veins, why crack you not, And tilt your blood into the face of heaven, To make red clouds, like ensigns in the sky, Displaying a damn'd tyrant's cruelty! Yet can I laugh in my extremest pangs Of blood and spirit to see the cardinal Keep rank with me, and my vile mother-queen, To see herself where she would have me seen. Good fellowship, i' faith! HOR. And I can tell, True misery loves a companion well. PHIL. Thou left'st me to the mercy of a Moor That hath damnation dyed upon his flesh; 'Twas well; thou, mother, didst unmotherly Betray thy true son to false bastardy; Thou left'st me then: now thou art found and staid, And thou, who didst betray me, art betray'd. A plague upon you all! CAR. Thou cursest them Whom I may curse: first, may I curse myself, Too credulous of loyalty and love; Next may I curse the Moor, more than a devil; And last thy mother, mother of all evil.