Crab. 'Tis true; but yet I'll publish no such thing;
What fool would lose his soul to please a king?
Ele. Keep there—good, there; yet, for it wounds my soul
To see the miserablest wretch to bleed,
I counsel you, in care unto your lives,
T' obey the mother-queen; for by my life,
I think she has been prick'd [in] her conscience.
O, it has stung her for some fact misdone,
She would not else disgrace herself and son.
Do't therefore; hark! she'll work your deaths else, hate
Bred in woman is insatiate. Do't, friars.
Crab. Brother Cole, zeal sets me in a flame:
I'll do't.
Cole. And I: his baseness we'll proclaim.
[Exeunt Friars.
Ele. Do, and be damn'd; Zarack and Balthazar,
Dog them at the heels; and when their poisonous breath
Hath scatter'd this infection on the hearts
Of credulous Spaniards, here reward them thus:
[Points to his sword.
Slaves too much trusted do grow dangerous.
Why this shall feed and fat suspicion
And my policy.
I'll ring through all the court this loud alarum,
That they contriv'd the murder of the king,
The queen, and me; and, being undermin'd,
To 'scape the blowing up, they fled. O, good!
There, there, thou there, cry treason; each one take
A several door; your cries my music make.
Bal. Where is the king? treason pursues him.
Enter Alvero in his shirt, his sword drawn.