[Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Antony, Cosmo, Hubert, and Damianus.

Anton.  You, noble Hubert, are the man[164] chosen out
From all our Vandal Leaders to be chiefe
O’er a new army, which the King will raise
To roote out from our land these Christians
That over-runne us.

Cosmo.  ’Tis a glory, Hubert, Will raise your fame and make you like our gods, To please whom you must do this.

Dam.  And in doing
Be active as the fire and mercilesse
As is the boundlesse Ocean when it swallows
Whole Townes and of them leaves no Monuments.

Hub.  When shall mine eyes be happy in the sight Of this brave Pagentry?

Cosmo.  The King sayes instantly.

Hub.  And must I be the Generall?

Omnes.  Onely you.

Hub.  I shall not then at my returning home
Have sharers in my great acts:  to the Volume
My Sword in bloody Letters shall text downe
No name must stand but mine; no leafe turn’d o’er
But Huberts workes are read and none but mine.
Bellizarius shall not on his Clouds of fire
Fly flaming round about the staring World
Whilst I creepe on the earth.  Flatter me not: 
Am I to goe indeed?

Anton.  The King so sweares.

Hub.  A Kings word is a Statute graven in Brasse,
And if he breakes that Law I will in Thunder
Rouze his cold spirit.  I long to ride in Armour,
And looking round about me to see nothing
But Seas and shores, the Seas of Christians blood,
The shoares tough Souldiers.  Here a wing flies out
Soaring at Victory; here the maine Battalia
Comes up with as much horrour and hotter terrour
As if a thick-growne Forrest by enchantment
Were made to move, and all the Trees should meete
Pell mell, and rive their beaten bulkes in sunder,
As petty Towers doe being flung downe by Thunder. 
Pray, thanke the King, and tell him I am ready
To cry a charge; tell him I shall not sleepe
Till that which wakens Cowards, trembling with feare,
Startles me, and sends brave Musick to mine eare;
And that’s the Drumme and Trumpet.

Ant.  This shall be told him.

Dam.  And all the Goths and Vandalls shall strike Heaven With repercussive Ecchoes of your name, Crying, a Hubert!

Hub.  Deafe me with that sound:  A Souldier, though he falls in the Field, lives crown’d.

Cosmo.  Wee’le to the King and tell him this.

[Exeunt.

Enter Bellina.

Hub.  Doe.—­Oh, my Bellina,
If ever, make me happy now; now tye
Strong charmes about my full-plum’d Burgonet
To bring me safe home.  I must to the Warres.

Bellina.  What warres? we have no warres but in our selves;
We fighting with our sinnes, our sinnes with us;
Yet they still get the Victory.  Who are in Armes
That you must to the Field?