King. What shouts are these? see, Cosmo.
Cosmo. Good newes, my Lord; here comes Hubert from the warres.
Hub. Long life and health wait ever on the King.
King. Hubert, thy wishes are come short of both. Hast thou good newes? be briefe then and speake quickly: I must else heare thee in another World.
Hub. In briefe, then, know: Henrick, your valiant sonne,
With Bellizarius and my selfe come laden
With spoiles to lay them at your feet.
What lives the sword spar'd serve to grace your Triumph,
Till from your lips they have the doome of death.
King. What are they?
Hub. Christians, and their Chiefe a Church-man, Eugenius, Bishop of Carthage, and with him Seven hundred Captives more, all Christians.
King. Hold, Death; let me a little taste these ioyes, Then take me ravisht hence. Glad mine eyes, Hubert, With the victorious Boy.
Hub. Your Starre comes shining. [Exit Hubert.
King. Lift me a little higher, yet more: Doe the Immortall Powers poure blessings downe, And shall I not returne them?