_Abd_. Most easily-- Proclaim it in the head of all your Troops, The Justice of your Cause for leaving him; And tell ‘em, ‘tis a Work of Piety To follow your Example. The giddy Rout are guided by Religion, More than by Justice, Reason, or Allegiance. --The Crown which I as a good Husband keep, I will lay down upon the empty Throne; Marry you the Queen, and fill it--and for me, I’ll ever pay you Duty as a Subject. [_Bows low_. _Card_. On these Conditions all I am is yours; _Philip_ we cannot fear, all he can do Is to retire for refuge into _Portugal_. _Abd_. That wou’d be dangerous-- Is there no Arts to get him in our Power? _Card_. Perhaps by Policy, and seeming Friendship, For we have reason yet to fear his Force; And since I’m satisfy’d he’s not my lawful Prince, I cannot think it an Impiety To sacrifice him to the Peace of _Spain_, And every Spirit that loves Liberty: First we’ll our Forces join, and make ‘em yours, Then give me your Authority to arrest him; If so we can surprize him, we’ll spare the hazard Of a second Battel. _Abd_. My Lord, retire into my inner Tent, And all things shall be instantly perform’d. [_Exeunt all_. SCENE VII. _The Grove_. _Enter some of_ Philip’s _Party running over the Stage, pursued by_ Philip, Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio, _and some few Officers more_. _Alon_. Do not pursue ‘em, Sir, such coward Slaves Deserve not Death from that illustriate Hand. _Phil_. Eternal Plagues consume ‘em in their flight; Oh, this damn’d coward Cardinal has betray’d us! When all our Swords were nobly dy’d in Blood, When with red Sweat that trickled from our Wounds We’ad dearly earn’d the long disputed Victory, Then to lose all, then to sound base Retreat, It swells my Anger up to perfect Madness. _Alon_. Indeed ‘twas wondrous strange. _Sebast_. I’m glad, Sir-- _Phil_. Art glad of it? art glad we are abandon’d? That I, and thou have lost the hopeful’st Day-- _Sebast_. Great Sir, I’m glad that you came off alive. _Phil_. Thou hast a lean Face--and a carrion Heart-- A plague upon the Moor, and thee--Oh, _Alonzo_, To run away--follow’d by all the Army! Oh, I cou’d tear my Hair, and curse my Soul to Air! --Cardinal--thou Traitor, _Judas_, that would’st sell Thy God again, as thou hast done thy Prince. --But come--we’re yet a few, And we will fight till there be left but one-- If I prove him, I’ll die a glorious death. Ant. Yes, but the Cardinal has took pious Care It shall be in our Beds. _Sebast_. We are as bad as one already, Sir; for all our Fellows are crawl’d home, some with ne’er a Leg, others with ne’er a Arm, some with their Brains beat out, and glad they escaped so. _Phil_. But, my dear Countrymen, you’ll stick to me. _1 Sold_. Ay, wou’d I were well off-- [_Aside_. _Phil_. Speak, stout _Sceva_, wilt thou not? _1 Sold. Sceva_, Sir, who’s that?