Eugen. O noble Sir, if you be King shoot forth
Bright as a Sunne-beame, and dry up these vapours
That choake this kingdome; dry the seas of blood
Flowing from Christians, and drinke up the teares
Of those alive, halfe slaughter'd in their feares.
Hub. Father, Ile not offend you.—Have you done? So long chusing one Crowne?
Anton. Let Drums and Trumpets proclaime Hubert our King!
Omnes. Sound Drummes and Trumpets!
Hub. I have it, then, as well by voyce as sword;
For should you holde it backe it will be mine.
I claime it, then, by conquest; fields are wonne
By yeelding as by strokes: Yet, noble Vandals,
I will lay by the Conquest and acknowledge
That your hands and your hearts the pinnacles are
On which my greatnesse mounts unto this height.
And now in sight of you and heaven I sweare
By those new sacred fires kindled within me,
'Tis not your ho[o]pe of Gold my brow desires;
A thronging Court to me is but a Cell;
These popular acclamations, which thus dance
I'th Aire, should passe by me as whistling windes
Playing with leaves of trees. I'me not ambitious
Of Titles glorious and maiesticall;
But what I doe is to save blood, save you;
I meane to be a husband for you all,
And fill you all with riches.
Epi. 'Tis that we thirst for; For all our bagges are emptied in these warres Rais'd by seditious Christians.
Hub. Peace, thou foole:
They are not bags of gold, that melts in fire,
Which I will fill your coffers with; my treasury
Are riches for your soules; my armes are spread
Like wings to protect Christians. What have you done?
Proclaim'd a Christian King; and Christian Kings
Should not be bloody.
Omnes. How? turn'd Christian?
Eugen. O blest King! happy day!
Omnes. Must we forsake our Gods then?