Old English Plays Being a Selection From the Early Dramatic Writers volume

Charles Wentworth Dilke

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Cannot you see your play? Well fare a woman then to lead the way. Once rob the dead ; put the Moors habits on, And paint your faces with the oil of hell : So, waiting on the tyrant Phil. Come, no more, 'Tis here and here : room there below ; stand wide| Bury them well since they so godly died.
Horten. Away then ; fate now let revenge be plac'd.
Phil. Here.
Horten. And here ; a tyrant's blood doth sweetly taste. [Exeunt, Scene VI.
Enter Eleazar, Alvero, Roderigo, Christo- FERO, and other Lords.
...Eleaz. What, I imprison ! Who ? v) )\'A All. Philip and Hortenzo. ^loMini^i b. Xl Eleaz. Philip and Hortenzo ! ha, ha, ha. Rod. Why laughs the Moor ? ^^i w^^vi Eleaz. I laugh because you jest : ^ ' ' " Laugh at a jest. Who, I imprison them ?
I prize their lives with weights, their necks with chains, ^wji^V A TRAGEDY. IBD 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 rules, The whitest faces have the blackest souls.

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