Bess. For these I only spake; for him I kneel, If I have any grace with mighty Fez. Mullisheg. We can deny thee nothing, beauteous maid. A kiss shall be his pardon. Bess. Thus I pay’t. Clem. Must your black face be smouching my mistress’ white lips with a moorian![2.66] I would you had kissed her a-- Alcade. Hah! how is that, sir? Clem. I know what I say, sir; I would he had kissed her a-- Alcade. A--what? Clem. A thousand times, to have done him a pleasure! _Re-enter_ Spencer _and_ Captain Goodlack. Mullisheg. That kiss was worth the ransom of a king.-- What’s he, of that brave presence? Bess. A gentleman of England, and my friend. Do him some grace, for my sake. Mullisheg. For thy sake what would not I perform? He shall have grace and honour.--Joffer, go And see him gelded to attend on us: He shall be our chief eunuch. Bess. Not for ten worlds! Behold, great king, I stand Betwixt him and all danger.--Have I found thee?-- Seize what I have; take both my ship and goods; Leave nought that’s mine unrifled: spare me him.-- And have I found my Spencer? Clem. Please your majesty, I see all men are not capable of honour: what he refuseth, may it please you to bestow on me. Mullisheg. With all my heart. Go, bear him hence, Alcade, Into our Alkedavy: honour him, And let him taste the razor. Clem. There’s honour for me! Alcade. Come, follow. Clem. No, sir; I’ll go before you, for mine honour. [_Exeunt_ Clem _and_ Alcade. Spencer. Oh! show yourself, renownèd king, the same Fame blazons you. Bestow this maid on me: ’Tis such a gift as kingdoms cannot buy. She is a precedent of all true love, And shall be registered to after-times, That ne’er shall pattern her. Goodlack. Heard you the story of their constant love, ’Twould move in you compassion. Roughman. Let not intemperate love sway you ’bove pity. That foreign nation, that ne’er heard your name, May chronicle your virtues. Mullisheg. You have wakened in me an heroic spirit: Lust shall not conquer virtue.--Till this hour, We graced thee for thy beauty, English woman; But now we wonder at thy constancy. Bess. Oh! were you of our faith, I’d swear great Mullisheg To be a god on earth.--And lives my Spencer? In troth I thought thee dead. Spencer. In hope of thee, I lived to gain both life and liberty. _Re-enter_ Clem, _running_. Clem. No more of your honour, if you love me! Is this your Moorish preferment, to rob a man of his best jewels? Mullisheg. Hast thou seen our Alkedavy? Clem. Davy do you call him? he may be called shavy; I am sure he hath tickled my current commodity. No more of your cutting honour, if you love me. Mullisheg. [_To_ Spencer.] All your strange fortunes we will hear discoursed, And after that your fair espousals grace, If you can find a man of your belief To do that grateful office.