Classic Poem

[SCENE III.]

Enter the Moor, with C ALIPOLIS his wife , M ULY M AHAMET his son, and two others .

The Moor . Where art thou, boy? Where in Calipolis?
O deadly wound that passeth by mine eye,
The fatal poison of my swelling heart!
O fortune constant in unconstancy!
Fight earthquakes in the intrails of the earth,
And eastern whirlwinds in the hellish shades!
Some foul contagion of th' infected heaven
Blast all the trees, and in their cursed tops
The dismal night-raven and tragic owl
Breed, and become foretellers of my fall,
The fatal ruin of my name and me!
Adders and serpents hiss at my disgrace,
And wound the earth with anguish of their stings!
Now, Abdelmelec, now triumph in Fess;
Fortune hath made thee King of Barbary.
Calip . Alas, my lord, what boot these huge exclaims
T' advantage us in this distress'd estate?
O, pity our perplex'd estate, my lord,
And turn all curses to submiss complaints,
And those complaints to actions of relief!
I faint, my lord; and naught may cursing plaints
Refresh the fading substance of my life.
The Moor . Faint all the world, consume and be accursed,
Since my state faints, [consumes,] and is accursed.
Calip . Yet patience, lord, to conquer sorrows so.
The Moor . What patience is for him that lacks his crown?
There is no patience where the loss is such:
The shame of my disgrace hath put on wings,
And swiftly flies about this earthly ball.
Carest thou to live, then, fond Calipolis,
When he that should give essence to thy soul,
He on whose glory all thy joy should stay,
Is soulless, gloryless, and desperate,
Crying for battle, famine, sword, and fire,
Rather than calling for relief or life?
But be content, thy hunger shall have end;
Famine shall pine to death, and thou shalt live:
I will go hunt these cursed solitaries,
And make the sword and target here my hound
To pull down lions and untamed beasts.
The Moor's Son . Tush, mother, cherish your unhearty soul,
And feed with hope of happiness and ease;
For if by valour or by policy
My kingly father can be fortunate,
We shall be Jove's commanders once again,
And flourish in a threefold happiness.
Zareo . His majesty hath sent Sebastian,
The good and harmless King of Portugal,
A promise to resign the royalty
And kingdom of Morocco to his hands;
And when this haughty offer takes effect,
And works affiance in Sebastian,
My gracious lord, warn'd wisely to advise,
I doubt not but will watch occasion,
And take her fore-top by the slenderest hair,
To rid us of this miserable life.
The Moor's Son . Good madam, cheer yourself: my father's wise;
He can submit himself and live below,
Make show of friendship, promise, vow, and swear,
Till, by the virtue of his fair pretence,
Sebastian trusting his integrity,
He makes himself possessor of such fruits
As grow upon such great advantages.
Calip . But more dishonour hangs on such misdeeds
Than all the profit their return can bear:
Such secret judgments have the heavens imposed
Upon the drooping state of Barbary,
As public merits in such lewd attempts
Have drawn with violence upon our heads.

Enter M ULY M AHAMET with flesh upon his sword .

The Moor . Hold thee, Calipolis, feed, and faint no more;
This flesh I forced from a lioness,
Meat of a princess, for a princess meet:
Learn by her noble stomach to esteem
Penury plenty in extremest dearth;
Who, when she saw her foragement bereft,
Pined not in melancholy or childish fear,
But as brave minds are strongest in extremes,
So she, redoubling her former force,
Ranged through the woods, and rent the breeding vaults
Of proudest savages to save herself.
Feed, then, and faint not, fair Calipolis;
For rather than fierce Famine shall prevail
To gnaw thy intrails with her thorny teeth,
The conquering lioness shall attend on thee,
And lay huge heaps of slaughter'd carcasses,
As bulwarks in her way, to keep her back.
I will provide thee of a princely osprey,
That as she flieth over fish in pools,
The fish shall turn their glistering bellies up,
And thou shalt take thy liberal choice of all;
Jove's stately bird with wide-commanding wings
Shall hover still about thy princely head,
And beat down fowl by shoals into thy lap:
Feed, then, and faint not, fair Calipolis.
Calip . Thanks, good my lord, and though my stomach be
Too queasy to disgest such bloody meat,
Yet, strength I it with virtue of my mind,
I doubt no whit but I shall live, my lord.
The Moor . Into the shades, then, fair Calipolis,
And make thy son and negroes here good cheer;
Feed and be fat, that we may meet the foe
With strength and terror, to revenge our wrong.