Hor. And here; a tyrant's blood doth sweetly taste.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Eleazar, Alvero, Roderigo, Christofero, and other Lords.
Ele. What, I imprison! Who?
Ele. Philip and Hortenzo! ha, ha, ha!
Rod. Why laughs the Moor?
Ele. I laugh, because you jest:
Laugh at a jest. Who, I imprison them?
I prize their lives with weights, their necks with chains,
Their hands with manacles! do I all this?
Because my face is in night's colour dyed,
Think you my conscience and my soul is so?
Black faces may have hearts as white as snow;
And 'tis a general rule in moral schools,[76]
The whitest faces have the blackest souls.
Alv. But touching my Hortenzo——