tian, thy blood
Must give me ease and helpe.

_Eugen_. Drinke then thy fill:
None of the Fathers that begot sweet Physick,
That Divine Lady, comforter to man,
Invented such a medicine as man's blood;
A drinke so pretious should not be so spilt:
Take mine, and Heaven pardon you the guilt.

_King_. A Butcher! see his throat cut.

_Eugen_. I am so farre from shrinking that mine owne hands
Shall bare my throat; and am so farre from wishing
Ill to you that mangle me, that before
My blood shall wash these Rushes,
King, I will cure thee.

1 _Phys_. You cure him?

_King_. Speak on, fellow.

_Eugen_. If I doe not
Restore your limbs to soundnesse, drive the poyson
From the infected part, study your tortures
To teare me peece-meale yet be kept alive.

_King_. O reverent man, come neare me; worke this wonder,
Aske gold, honours, any, any thing
The sublunary treasures of this world
Can yeeld, and they are thine.

_Eugen_. I will doe nothing without a recompence.

_King_. A royall one.

_Omnes_. Name what you would desire.

_King_. Stand by; you trouble him.
A recompence can my Crowne bring thee, take it;
Reach him my Crowne and plant it on his head.

_Eugen_. No; here's my bargaine--

_King_. Quickly, oh speake quickly.--
Off with the good man's Irons.

_Eugen_. Free all those Christians which are now thy slaves,
In all thy Cittadels, Castles, Fortresses;
Those in _Bellanna_ and _Mersaganna_,
Those in _Alempha_ and in _Hazanoth_,
Those in thy Gallies, those in thy Iayles and Dungeons.

_King_. Those any where: my signet, take my signet,
And free all on your lives, free all the Christians.
What dost thou else desire?

_Eugen_. This; that thy selfe trample upon thy Pagan Gods.

_Omnes_. Sir!

_King_. Away.

_Eugen_. Wash your soule white by wading in the streame
Of Christian gore.

_King_. I will turne Christian.

_Dam_. Better wolves worry this accursed--

_King_. Better
Have Bandogs[163] worry all of you, than I
To languish in a torment that feedes on me
As if the Furies bit me. Ile turn Christian,
And, if I doe not, let the Thunder pay
My breach of promise. Cure me, good old man,
And I will call thee father; thou shalt have
A king come kneeling to thee every Morning
To take a blessing from thee, and to heare thee
Salute him as a sonne.
When, when is this wonder?

_Eugen_. Now; you are well, Sir.

_King_. Ha!

_Eugen_. Has your paine left y