The Noble Spanish Soldier | Page 9

cut thus by the left, a courtier? Is the world all ruff and feather
and nothing else? Shall I never see a tailor give his coat with a
difference from a gentleman?
Enter King, Alanzo, Carlo, Cockadillio.

KING
My Balthazar!
Let us make haste to meet thee. How art thou
altered?
Do you not know him?
ALANZO
Yes Sir, the brave soldier
Employed against the Moors
KING
Half turned Moor!
I'll honour thee, reach him a chair, that
table
And now, Aeneas-like, let thine own trumpet
Sound forth thy
battle with those slavish Moors.
BALTHAZAR
My music is a Cannon, a pitched field my stage,
Furies the actors, blood and vengeance the scene, death the story, a
sword imbrued with blood, the pen that writes, and the poet a terrible
buskined <17> tragical fellow, with a wreath about his head of burning
match instead of bays.
KING
On to the battle.
BALTHAZAR
'Tis here without bloodshed. This our main battalia,
that the van, this the vaw <18>, these the wings, here we fight, there
they fly, here they insconce <19>, and here our sconces <20> lay
seventeen moons on the cold earth.
KING
This satisfies my eye, but now my ear
Must have his music
too. Describe the battle.
BALTHAZAR
The battle? Am I come from doing to talking? The
hardest part for a soldier to play is to prate well. Our tongues are fifes,
drums, petronels <21>, muskets, culverin <22> and cannon. These are
our roarers, the clocks which we go by are our hands. Thus we reckon
ten, our swords strike eleven and when steel targets of proof clatter one
against another, then 'tis noon that's the height and the heat of the day
of battle.
KING
So.
BALTHAZAR

To that heat we came, our drums beat, pikes were shaken and shivered,
swords and targets clashed and clattered, muskets rattled cannons
roared, men died groaning, brave laced jerkings and feathers looked
pale, tottered rascals fought pell mell. Here fell a wing, there heads
were tossed like footballs, legs and arms quarrelled in the air and yet
lay quietly on the earth. Horses trampled upon heaps of carcasses,
troops of carbines tumbled wounded from their horses, we besiege
Moors and famine us, mutinies bluster and are calm. I vowed not to
doff mine armour though my flesh were frozen to it and turn into iron,
nor to cut head nor beard till they yielded. My hairs and oath are of one
length for, with Caesar, thus write I mine own story: veni, vidi, vici.
KING
A pitched field, quickly fought. Our hand is thine,
And
because thou shalt not murmur that thy blood
Was lavished forth for
an ungrateful man,
Demand what we can give thee and 'tis thine.
BALTHAZAR
Only your love.
KING
'Tis thine, rise soldier's best accord
When wounds of wrong
are healed up by the sword.
Onaelia knocks loudly at the door.
ONAELIA
Let me come in, I'll kill the treacherous King,
The
murderer of mine honour, let me come in.
KING
What woman's voice is that?
ALL
Medina's niece.
KING
Bar out that fiend.
ONAELIA
I'll tear him with my nails,
Let me come in, let me
come in, help, help me.
KING
Keep her from following me. A guard.

ALANZO
They are ready, sir.
KING
Let a quick summons call our Lords together,
This disease
kills me.
BALTHAZAR
Sir, I would be private with you.
KING
Forebear us, but see the doors are well guarded.
Exeunt [King and Balthazar remain].
BALTHAZAR
Will you, Sir, promise to give me freedom of
speech?
KING
Yes, I will, take it, speak any thing, 'tis pardoned.
BALTHAZAR
You are a whoremaster. Do you send me to win
towns for you abroad and you lose a kingdom at home?
KING
What kingdom?
BALTHAZAR
The fairest in the world, the kingdom of your fame,
your honour.
KING
Wherein?
BALTHAZAR
I'll be plain with you. Much mischief is done by the
mouth of a cannon, but the fire begins at a little touch-hole. You heard
what nightingale sung to you even now.
KING
Ha, ha, ha!
BALTHAZAR
Angels erred but once and fell, but you Sir, spit in
heaven's face every minute and laugh at it. Laugh still, follow your
courses, do. Let your vices run like your kennels of hounds, yelping
after you till they pluck down the fairest head in the herd, everlasting
bliss.

KING
Any more?
BALTHAZAR
Take sin as the English snuff tobacco, and scornfully
blow the smoke in the eyes of heaven, the vapour flies up in clouds of
bravery. But when 'tis out, the coal is black, your conscience, and the
pipe stinks. A sea of rosewater cannot sweeten your corrupted bosom.
KING
Nay, spit thy venom.
BALTHAZAR
'Tis Aqua Coelestis <23>, no venom. For when you
shall clasp up these two books, never to be opened again, when by
letting fall that anchor which can never more be weighed up, your
mortal navigation ends. Then there's no playing at spurn-point <24>
with thunderbolts. A vintner then for unconscionable reckoning or a
tailor for unmeasurable items shall