Exit Onaelia.

CORNEGO
That's cud enough for you to chew upon.

Exit Cornego.

MEDINA
What's this? A riddle. How? The King, the contract.
The mischief I divine which proving true,
Shall kindle fires in Spain to melt his crown
Even from his head. Here's the decree of fate:
A black deed must a black deed expiate.

Exit Medina.

ACT 2 SCENE 1

Enter Balthazar, [having been] slighted by the Dons.

BALTHAZAR
Thou god of good apparel, what strange fellows are bound to do thee
honour. Mercer's <12> books show men's devotions to thee. Heaven
cannot hold a saint so stately. Do not my dons know me because I'm
poor in clothes? Stood my beaten tailor plaiting my rich hose, my
silk stocking man drawing upon my Lordship's courtly calf pairs of
imbroidered things, whose golden clocks strike deeper to the faithful
shop-keeper's heart, than into mine to pay him. Had my barber
perfumed my lousy thatch here and poked out me tusks more stiff than