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Act Two, Scene Three

Sound to the battell, and Sigismond comes out wounded.

Sigismond
Discomfited is all the Christian hoste,
And God hath thundered vengeance from on high,
For my accurst and hatefull perjurie.
O just and dreadfull punisher of sinne,
Let the dishonor of the paines I feele,
In this my mortall well deserved wound,
End all my penance in my sodaine death,
And let this death wherein to sinne I die,
Conceive a second life in endlesse mercie.
[Dies.]
Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, Uribassa, with others.

Orcanes
Now lie the Christians bathing in their bloods,
And Christ or Mahomet hath bene my friend.

Gazellus
See here the perjur'd traitor Hungary,
Bloody and breathlesse for his villany.

Orcanes
Now shall his barbarous body be a pray
To beasts and foules, and al the winds shall breath
Through shady leaves of every sencelesse tree,
Murmures and hisses for his heinous sin.
Now scaldes his soule in the Tartarian streames,
And feeds upon the baneful! tree of hell,
That Zoacum, that fruit of bytternesse,
That in the midst of fire is ingraft,
Yet flourisheth as Flora in her pride,
With apples like the heads of damned Feends.
The Dyvils there in chaines of quencelesse flame,
Shall lead his soule through Orcus burning gulfe:
From paine to paine, whose change shal never end:
What saiest thou yet Gazellus to his foile:
Which we referd to justice of his Christ,
And to his power, which here appeares as full
As rates of Cynthia to the clearest sight?

Gazellus
Tis but the fortune of the wars my Lord,
Whose power is often proov'd a myracle.

Orcanes
Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honoured,
Not dooing Mahomet an injurie,
Whose power had share in this our victory:
And since this miscreant hath disgrac'd his faith,
And died a traitor both to heaven and earth,
We wil both watch and ward shall keepe his trunke
Amidst these plaines, for Foules to pray upon.
Go Uribassa, give it straight in charge.

Uribassa
I will my Lord.
Exit Uribassa [and soldiers with body].

Orcanes
And now Gazellus, let us haste and meete
Our Army and our brother of Jerusalem,
Of Soria, Trebizon and Amasia,
And happily with full Natolian bowles
Of Greekish wine now let us celebrate
Our happy conquest, and his angry fate.
Exeunt.

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