Med.  Stand in the midst, sweet Cooz; we are your guard;
These Hammers shall for thee beat out a Crowne,
If hit all right.  Sweare therefore, noble friends
By your high bloods, by true Nobility,
By what you owe Religion, owe to your Country,
Owe to the raising your posterity;
By love you beare to vertue and to Armes
(The shield of Innocence) sweare not to sheath
Your Swords, when once drawne forth—­

Onae.  Oh, not to kill him For twenty thousand worlds!

Med.  Will you be quiet?—­ Your Swords, when once drawne forth, till they ha forc’d Yon godlesse, perjurous, perfidious man—­

Onae.  Pray raile not at him so.

Med.  Art mad? y’are idle:—­till they ha forc’d him
To cancell his late lawlesse bond he seal’d
At the high Altar to his Florentine Strumpet,
And in his bed lay this his troth-plight wife.

Onae.  I, I, that’s well; pray sweare.

Omnes.  To this we sweare.

Seb.  Vncle, I sweare too.

Med.  Our forces let’s unite; be bold and secret,
And Lion-like with open eyes let’s sleepe: 
Streames smooth and slowly running are most deep.
          
                                 [Exeunt.

(SCENE 3.)

Enter King; Queen, Malateste, Valesco, Lopez.

King.  The Presence doore be guarded; let none enter
On forfeit of your lives without our knowledge. 
Oh, you are false physitians all unto me,
You bring me poyson but no antidotes.

Queen.  Your selfe that poyson brewes.

King.  Prethe, no more.

Queen.  I will, I must speake more.

King.  Thunder aloud.

Queen.  My child, yet newly quickened in my wombe, Is blasted with the fires of Bastardy.

King.  Who? who dares once but thinke so in his dreame?

Mal. Medina’s faction preached it openly.

King.  Be curst he and his Faction:  oh, how I labour
For these preventions! but, so crosse is Fate,
My ills are ne’re hid from me but their Cures. 
What’s to be done?

Queen.  That which being left undone, Your life lyes at the stake:  let ’em be breathlesse, Both brat and mother.

King.  Ha!

Mal.  She playes true Musicke, Sir: 
The mischiefes you are drench’d in are so full
You need not feare to add to ’em; since now
No way is left to guard thy rest secure
But by a meanes like this.

Lop.  All Spaine rings forth Medina’s name and his Confederates.

Rod.  All his Allyes and friends rush into troopes Like raging Torrents.

Val.  And lowd Trumpet forth Your perjuries; seducing the wild people And with rebellious faces threatning all.