Enter Fernando, bareheaded, talking with the Duke of Macada; Duke Gyron, Medyna, Marquesse d'Alquevezzas; 2 Gen., one with Pikes sword, which is laid on a table; Jaylour, Teniente; Clarke with papers.
Mac. Where's theTeniente?
Clarke. The Duke calls for you.
Ten. Here, my Lord.
Mac. 'Tis the King's pleasure that those fugitivesWhich basely left the fort should not be honourdWith a judiciall tryall, but presently(Both those you have at home & these inSherrys)To dye by martiall law.
Ten. My Lord, Ile see it done.
Mac. Dispatch the rest here.
Jay. Yes, my Lord; Ile bring them carefully together to end the busines.
Gyr. BringBustamentein.[Exit Jaylour.
Mac. My Lords, here'sDon Fernandorelates to meTwo stories full of wonder; one of his daughter,Fam'd for her vertues, faireEleonora,AccusingDon Henrico, youngest sonneTo noblePedro Guzman, of a rape;Another of the sameHenrico's, chargingHis elder brotherManuellwith the murtherOfPedro Guzman, who went late toFrance.
Gyr. Are all the parties here?
Fer. Yes. [Exit Fernan.
Enter Jaylour, Bustamente, Guard.
Gyr. Bring them in.
Mac.Bustamente,The King, our master, looking with sharpe eyes,Upon your trayterous yeilding up the fort,Putts off your Tryall here; you must abideLonger imprisonment.
Bust. I have allready quittedMy selfe, my lord, of that which you call Treason,Which had in any here (he doing the like)Bene a high point of honour.
Alq. These braves[43] cannot serve you.
Gyr. You must not be your owne Judge.
Mac. You gave theEnglishMore glory by your base ignoble rendringThat fort up then our Nation gott from themIn all our undertakings.
Bust. Heare me, my Lords,
Mac. Sir, sir, w'have other anviles;Bustamente, Prepare your selfe for death.
Bust. For all my service!
All. Take him away!
Bust. You are Lyons & I your prey.
[Exit with Jaylour.
Mac. Which areDon Pedro'ssons?
Enter Fernando, Henrico, Manuell.
Fer. These two.
Mac. Which youngest?
Hen. I, my Lord.
Enter Jaylour.
Mac. You charge this Gentleman, your elder brother, With murther of your father.
Hen. Which I can prove.
Mac. And hither flyes a ravisht Ladyes voice To charge you with a Rape; the wronged Daughter Of this most noble Gentleman.
Hen. Let them prove that
Mac. These accusations & the proofes shall meeteHere face to face, in th' afternoone. MeantimePray,Don Fernando, let it be your careTo see these gentlemen attended onBy a strong guard.
Fer. The wrongs done to my selfe Work me, my lord, to that.
Man. I would your Grace would heare me speake a little.
All. You shall have time.
Med. Take them away, And at their Tryall have the Lady here.
[Ex. Fer., Hen., Man., & Jaylour.
Gyr. Where is theEnglishman?
Clarke. TheEnglishman!
Alq. What do you call him?Dick of Devonshire?
Med. Because he is a soldier let him haveA soldier's honour; bring him from his prisonFull in the face of the whole Towne ofSherrys,With drums and musketts.
Mac. How many soldiers are in the Towne?
Clarke. 5000.
Med. Let 200 march hither along with him as his guard: where's theTeniente?
Ten. Here, my Lord.
Med. Pray, see this done & in good order.
Ten. I shall. [Exit.
Enter Don John below.
Gyr. What makesDon Johnhere? Oh, now I remember: You come against theEnglishman.
Jo. Yes, my Lord.
Enter his Lady and a Gentlewoman above.
Mac. Give me the Note there of theEnglishadvertisements.
[They all conferre.
Lady. Here may we see & heare: pooreEnglishman!Sadnes! I cast on thee a noble pitty,A pitty mixt with sorrow that my HusbandHas drawne him to this misery, to whomThe soldier gave life being at his mercy.
Gent. Twas bravely done, no doubt he'le speed the better For his mind.
Lady. I visited him in prison,And did with much adoe win fromDon JohnThis journey, for I vowd to see th'eventHow they will deale with him.
Gent. I hope most fairely.
Enter 2 drums, Teniente, divers musketts, Fernando with Pike (without band, an Iron about his necke, 2 Chaines manackling his wrists, a great chaine at his heeles); Jaylour, 3 or 4 halberts. A Barre sett out.
Clarke. Silence!
Mac. You see how much ourSpanishsoldiers love you To give this brave attendance; though your Nation Fought us & came to hunt us to our deathes.
Pike. My Lords, this, which in shew is brave attendanceAnd love to me, is the worldes posture right,Where one man's falling downe setts up another.My sorrowes are their triumphes; so in kings courts,When officers are thrust out of their roomes,Others leape laughing in while they doe mourne.I am at your mercy.
Mac. SirraEnglishman, Know you that weapon?—reach it him.
Pike. Yes, it Was once mine; and drawes teares from me to think How 'twas forced from me.
Mac. How manySpanyardsKilld you with that sword?
Pike. Had I killd one This Barre had nere bene guilty of my pleading Before such Princely Judges: there stands the man.
Gyr.Don John, sett he on you or you on him?
Jo. He upon me first.
Pike. Let me then be torne Into a thousand pieces.
Lady. My Husband speaks untruth.
Alq. Sett he on you first? more coward you to suffer an enemy be aforehand.
Pike. Indeed inEnglandmy countrymen are good at bidding stand; but I was not now upon a robbery but a defence, sett round with a thousand dangers. He sett upon me; I had him at my feete, sav'd him, and for my labour was after basely hurt by him.
Fer. This was examined by me, my Lords; AndDon John, thus accusd, was much ashamd Of his unmanly dealing.
Gyr. He may be now soe.
Lady. I blush for him my selfe.
Alq. Disgrace toSpanyards!
Mac. Sirra, youEnglish, what was the ship you came in?
Pike. TheConvertine.
Mac. What Ordnance did she carry?
Pike. 40 peeces.
Gyr. No, sir, but 38; see here, my Lord.
Alq. Right, no more then 38.
Mac. Your fort atPlymouthstrong?
Pike. Yes, very strong.
Mac. What Ordnance in't?
Pike. 50 Peeces.
Gyr. Oh fye, doe not belye your country; there's not so many.
Alq. How many soldiers keepe you in that fort?
Pike. 200.
Mac. Much about such a number.—There is a little iland beforePlymouth: What strength is that of?
Pike. I doe not know.
Gyr. We doe, then.
Alq. IsPlymoutha walld Towne?
Pike. Yes, it is walld.
Mac. And a good wall?
Pike. A very good strong wall.
Gyr. True tis a good strong wall, and built so high One with a leape staffe may leape over it.
Mac. Why did not your good navy, being in such bravery, As it tookePuntallseizeCales?
Pike. Our GenerallMight easily have tane it, for he hadAlmost a thousand scaling ladders to sett up;And without mayme to's army he might looseA thousand men: but he was loath to robbAn almes-house when he had a richer marketTo buy a conquest in.
Mac. What was that market?
Pike.Genoa or Lisbon: wherefore should we venture Our lives to catch the wind, or to gett knockes And nothing else. [They consult.
Mac. A poast with speed, toLisbon, And see't well mand.
Ten. One shalbe sent, my Lord.
[Exit. The soldiers laugh.
Alq. How now, why is this laughter?
Fer. One of the soldiers, being merry among themselves, is somewhat bold with th'English, and sayes th'are dainty Hennes.
All. [Alq.?] Hens! ha, ha, ha!
Mac. Sirra, view well these soldiers,And freely telle us, thinke you these will proveSuch hens as are yourEnglish, when next yeareThey land in your owne Country.
Pike. I thinke they will not, My lord, prove hens, but somewhat neere to hens.
Mac. How mean'st thou?
Pike. Let my speech breed no offence: I thinke they would prove pulletts.
Gyr. Dar'st thou fight With any one of these ourSpanishpulletts?
Pike. What heart have I to fight when tis beaten flattTo earth with sad afflictions? can a prisonerGlory in playing the Fencer? my life's at stakeAllready; can I putt it in for more?Our army was some 14000 menOf which more than 12000 had spirits so highMine never shall come neere them: would some of themWere here to feed your expectations!Yet, silly as I am, having faire pardonFrom all your Graces and your Greatnesses,Ile try if I have strength in this chayned armeTo breake a rapier.
Mac. Knock off all his gyves; And he that has a stomacke forSpaineshonour To combate with thisEnglishman, appeare.
Pike. May he be never calld anEnglishmanThat dares not looke a divell in the face, [One stepps forth. Come he in face of man, come how he can.
Mac. Your name?
Tia.Tiago.
All. Well doneTiago.
Mac. Let drums beate all the time they fight.
Lady. I pray for thee.
Gent. And I.
[They fight: Pike disarmes & tripps him downe.
Pike. Onely aDevonshirehugg, sir:—at your feete I lay my winnings.
Tia. Diable!
[Exit, biting his thumb[44]; the soldiers stampe.
Gyr. Wilt venter on oanother?
Pike. I beseech you To pardon me, and taske me to no more.
Alq. Come, come, one more; looke you, here's a young Cockerell[45] Comes crowing into the pitt. [Another steps in.
All. Prithee, fight with him.
Pike. I'me in the Lyon's gripe & to gett from him There's but one way; that's death.
Mac.English, What say you? will you fight or no?
Pike. Ile fight.
All. Give 'em roome! make way there!
Pike. Ile fight till every Joynt be cutt in piecesTo please such brave spectators; yes Ile fightWhile I can stand, be you but pleasd, my Lords,The noble Dukes here, to allow me choiceOf my owne Country weapon.
All. What?
Pike. A Quarter staffe,—this, were the head off.
Mac. Off with the head, and roome! How dost thou like thisSpaniard?
Pike. Well: he's welcome.Here's my old trusty frend: are there no more?One! what, but one? why, I shall make no play,No sport before my princely Judges with one.More sackes to the Mill! come, another! what, no more?
Mac. How many wouldst thou have?
Pike. Any number under six.
All. Ha, ha, sure he's mad!
Mac. Dar'st coape with Three?
Pike. Where are they? let 'em shew their faces: so; welcome!
Mac. How dost thou like these chickens?
Pike. When I have drest them With sorrell sopps Ile tell you.
Lady. Now guard him heaven!
[Drums. They fight, one is killd, the other 2 disarmed.
1. Hell take thy Quarter staffe!
2. Pox on thy quarters!
Mac. The matter? why this noyse?
[A noyse within of Diable Englese.
Jay. The soldiers rayle, stampe & stare, and sweare to cutt His throat for all the Jaylors care of him.
Mac. Make proclamation, my lordFernando, That who soever dares but touch his finger To hurt him, dyes.
Fer. I will, sir. [Exit.
Lady. This is done nobly.
Mac. Here, give him this gold.
Ten. The DukeMacadagives you this gold.
All. And this.
Ten. The Duke ofMedinathis; DukeGyronthis; &, looke you, the MarquesseAlquevezaas much as all the rest.
Alq. Where's any of my men? give him your Cloake, sirra;Fetch him cleane Band and Cuffs. I embrace thee,Pike;And hugg thee in my armes: scorne not to weareASpanishlivery.
Pike. Oh, my Lord, I am proud of't.
Mac. He shalbe with a Convoy sent to the King.
Alq. 4 of my gentlemen shall along with him: Ile beare thy charges, soldier, toMadrid, 5 peeces of 8 a day in travell, & Lying still thou shalt have halfe that.
Pike. On my knees Your vassaile thankes heaven, you, and these Princes.
Mac. Breake up the Court till afternoon: then the 2Guzmanstryall.
All. Come,Englishman.
Med. How we honour valour thus our loves epresse: Thou hast a guard of Dukes and Marquesses.
[Exeunt all.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Teniente & Henrico.
Ten. The Lords are not yett risen: let us walke & talke. Were not you better yeild to marry her Then yeild to suffer death? know you the law?
Hen. Law! yes; the spiders Cobweb[46], out of which great flyes breake and in which the little are hangd: the Tarriers snaphance[47], limetwiggs, weavers shuttle & blankets in which fooles & wrangling coxcombes are tossd. Doe I know't now or not?
Ten. If of the rape she accuse you 'tis in her choise To have you marry her or to have you hangd[48].
Hen. Hangd, hangd by any meanes! marry her? had I The King ofSpaines7 Kingdomes,Gallicia, Navarre, the 2Castiles, Leon, Arragon, Valentia, Granada, AndPortugallto make up 8, Ide lose them All to be rid of such a piece of flesh.
Ten. How? such a piece of flesh? Why, she has limbes Mad out of wax.[49]
Hen. Then have her to some faire And shew her for money.
Ten. Is she not sweet complexiond?
Hen. As most Ladyes are that studye painting.
Ten. What meate will downe your throat, when you scorne pheasant, partridge, woodcocke & coney? Would I had such a dish.
Hen. Woodcocke and coney take to you, myDon Teniente; Ile none; and because you keepe such a wondering why my stomach goes against the wench (albeit I might find better talke, considering what ladder I stand upon) Ile tell you, signior, what kind of wife I must have or none.
Ten. Pray let me see her picture.
Hen. Draw then this curtaine:Give me a wife that's sound of wind and limbe;Whose teeth can tell her age; whose hand nere feltA touch lascivious; whose eyes are ballsNot tossd by her to any but to me;Whose breath stinkes not of sweatmeates; whose lippes kisseOnely themselves and mine; whose tongue nere layAt the signe of theBell. She must not be a scold,No, nor a foole to be in love with Bables[50];No, nor too wise to think I nere saile trueBut when she steares the rudder. I'de not haveHer belly a drum, such as they weave points on,Unles they be taggd with vertue; nor would I haveHer white round breasts 2 sucking bottles to nurseAny Bastards at them.
Ten. I believe you would not.
Hen. I would not have her tall, because I love notTo dance about a May pole; nor too lowe(Litle clocks goe seldome true); nor, sir, too fatt(Slug[51] shipps can keepe no pace); no, nor too leane,To read Anatomy lectures ore her Carcas.Nor would I have my wife exceeding faire,For then she's liquorish meate; & it would mad meTo see whoremasters teeth water at her,Red haird by no meanes, though she would yeild moneyTo sell her to some Jew for poyson. No,My wife shall be a globe terrestriall,Moving upon no axeltree but mine;Which globe when I turne round, what land soeverI touch, my wife is with me, still Ime at home.
Ten. But where will you find such a wife on earth?
Hen. No, such a wife in the Moone for me doth tarry: If none such shine here I with none will marry.
Ten. The Lordes are come.
Hen. I care neyther for Lords nor Ladies.
Enter the Nobles as before; Fernando, Manuell, Clarke, Jaylor.
Mac. Where are these gentlemen? sett 'em both to a BarreAnd opposite, face to face: a ConfrontationMay perhaps daunt th'offender & draw from himMore then he'de utter. You accuse your BrotherAs murtherer of your father: where's the proofe?
Hen. First call my fathers man in.
Clark. What's his name?
Hen.Buzzano.
Clark. CallBuzzanoin!
Enter Buzzano.
Buz. Here I am, here.
Clark. Stand out: whither goe you?
Buz. To stand out.
Clark. Stand there.
Mac. Now what can he say?
Hen. First, my Lord, heare mee: My brother & I lying in one bed together, And he just under us—
Buz. In my fleabitten Trundle bed.[52]
Clark. Peace, sirra.
Hen. About midnight I awaking,And thisBuzzanotoo, my brother in his sleepeThus cryde out, "Oh, twas I that murtherd him,This hand that killd him"!
Gyr. Heard you this, sirra?
Buz. As sure as I heare you now.
Alq. And you'le be sworne 'twas he that so cryde out?
Buz. If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare.
Clark. Forbeare the Court. [Exit Buzzano.
Mac. All this is but presumption: if this be allThe shott you make against him your bullets stickIn a mud wall, or if they meete resistanceThey backe rebound & fly in your owne face.
Med. Bring your best forces up, for these are weak ones.
Hen. Then here I throw my glove & challenge himTo make this good upon him: that at comming homeHe first told me my father dyed in France,Then some hours after that he was not deadBut that he left him inLorraineatNancy,Then atChaalonsinBurgundy, & lastlyHe said toDon Fernandohe was inParis.
Fer. He did indeed.
Mac. What then?
Hen. Then, when in's chamber we were going to bed,He suddenly lookd wild, catchd me by the handAnd, falling on his knees, with a pale faceAnd troubled conscience he confessed he killd him,Nay, swore he basely murtherd him.
Mac. What say you to this?
Alq. Now he comes close up to you.
Man. He is my murthererFor I am none, so lett my Innocence guard me.I never spake with a distracted voice;Nere fell to him on my knees; spake of no father,No murtherd father. He's alive as I am,And some foule divell stands at the fellowes elbow,Jogging him to this mischefe. The Villaine belyes me,And on my knees, my lord, I beg that IAnd my white Innocence may tread the pathBeaten out before us by that man, my brother.Command a case of rapiers to be sent for,And lett me meete his daring. I know him valiant;But I am doubly armd, both with a CourageFiery as his can be, and with a causeThat spitts his accusation full in the face.
Mac. The combate in this case cannot be granted,And here's the reason: when a man accusesA frend, much more a brother, for a factSo foule as murther (murther of a father),The Law leapes straight way to the ChallengerTo take his part. Say he that doth accuseShould be decrepitt, lame and weake, or sickly,The other strong and lusty; thinke you a kingdomeWill hazard so a subject, when the quarrellIs for a kingdomes right? If y'are so valiantYou then must call the law into the fieldBut not the man.
Man. I have done; let law proceed.
Mac. This cannot serve your turne, say he does belye you;He stakes against your body his owne soule.Say there is no such murther, yet the LawFastens on you; for any man accusdFor killing of his father may be rackdTo draw confession from him. Will you confesse?
Man. I cannot, must not, will not.
Mac. Jaylour, take & prepare him for the racke: Wele see it done here.
Hen. You are righteous Judges.
Man. Oh villaine, villaine, villaine!
[Exit with the Jaylour.
Med. Where's the wrongd Lady?
Alq. Stand you still at the Barre. You are now another man, sir; your scale turnes.
Fernando fetches in Eleonora.
Mac. Looke on the prisoner: doe you know him, Lady?
Ele. Would I had nere had cause to say I know him.
Mac. Of what doe you accuse him?
Ele. As the murthererBoth of my name and honour. In the hurry,When the Citty (they said) was ready to be taken,I being betrothed to this young gentleman,My father brought me to his father's house,Telling me their dwelt safety.—There dwelt villany,Treason, lust, basenes! for this godlesse man(The storme being ore) came in & forcd from meThe Jewell of my virgin honour.
Hen. False!
Fer. I would not have thee thinke (thou graceles wretch)She, being contracted to thee, loving thee,Loving thee far more dearly then her selfe,Would wound her vertue soe, so blott her fameAnd bring a scandall on my house & me,Were not the fact most true.
Hen. Most false by all that ever man can sweare by. We falling out, I told her once I nere Would marry her; & soe she workes this mischiefe.
Gyr. You here stand chargd for ravishing her, & you Must marry her or she may have your life.
Mac. Lady, what say you? which had you rather have, His life or him?
Ele. I am not cruell; pay me my first Bond Of marriage, which you seald to, & I free you And shall with Joy run flying to your armes.
All. Law you?[53]
Mac. That's easy enough.
Hen. Rackes, Gibbetts, wheeles make sausages of my flesh first! Ile be ty'd to no man's Strumpet.
Alq. Then you muste look to dye.
Mac. Lady, withdraw.
Hen. Well, if I doe, somebody shall packe.
Ele. Oh me, unfortunate Creature! [Exit.
Enter Manuell to be rackt; Jaylour & Officers.
Med.Don Manuell Guzmanere you taste the tortures, Which you are sure to feele, will you confesse This murther of your father?
Man. Pray, give me privacy a little with my brother.
All. [Alq.?] Take it.
Man. O brother your owne Conscience knowes you wrong me:Ile rather suffer on the Gallow TreeThen thus be torne in pieces. Canst thou see meeThus worryed amongst hangmen? deareHenrico,For heavens sake, for thine owne sake pitty mee.
All. [Alq.?] What sayes he?
Hen. Cunning, cunning, cunning Traytour! In my eare he confesses all again and prayes me To speake to you.
Mac. Will you openly confesse?
Man. No, no, I cannot. Caytiffe, I spake not soe:I must not wound my Conscience to lay on itA guilt it knowes not. Ile not so dishonourMy father, nor my ancestours before me,Nor my posterity with such an earthquakeTo shake our noble house.
Mac. Give him the Law then.
Man. Ile meete a thousand deaths first.
Hen. Plucke, & plucke home, for he's a murtherous Villaine.
Man. Thou worse, a divell.
Mac. Racke him!
Man. Oh stay! for heavens sake spread your mercy! I doe confesse the murther; I killd my father.
All. Take him off!
Man. This hand stabbd him.
Mac. Where?
Man. NeereSt. GermainsInParis, in a darke night, & then I fled.
Mac. Thy owne tongue is thy Judge; take him away: To-morrow looke to dye: send him a Confessour.
Jay. Ile have a holy care of him.
[Exit Manuell, led by the Jaylour.
Hen. Who's now, my lords, the Villaine?
Enter Eleonora & Buzzano.
Ele. Oh Justice, here's a witnesse of my Rape.
Mac. Did you see't, sirra?
Buz. See't! no, sir, would I had; but when she was in labour I heard her cry out "helpe! helpe!" & the Gamboll being ended she came in like a mad woman, ruffled & crumpled, her haire about her eares; & he all unbrac'd, sweating as if he had bene thrashing; & afterwards he told me, my lords, that he had downe diddled her.
Hen. I now am lost indeed, & on my kneeBeg pardon of that goodnes, that pure TempleWhich my base lust prophand, & will make goodMy wrongs to her by marriage.
Mac. What say you, Lady?
Ele. He spurnd my mercy when it flew to him And courted him to kisse it; therefore now Ile have his life.
Fer. That life, so had, redeemes Thine & thy fathers infamy. Justice! my Lords.
Hen. Cruell Creature!
Mac. Take him away & lead him to his brother; You both must die next morning.
Hen. I deserve it; And so that Slave, too, that betrayed his Master.
Buz. Why should I not betray my Master, when he betrayed his Mistris.
Ele. Get you gone, sirra.
[Exeunt Henrico & Buzzano.
Mac. You are dismissd: Faire Lady, You shall have Law, your Ravisher shall dye.
Ele. Oh that my life from death could sett him free! [Exit.
Mac. Pray,Don Fernando, follow her & soften Her heart to pitty the poore gentleman: The Crime is not so Capitall.
Fer. Ile doe my best. [Exit.
Mac. That such a nobleSpanyardasDon PedroShould be so cursed in's Children!
Enter Buzzano, Don Pedro, Fernando & Eleonora.
Buz. Hee's come, hee's come, my Lord!Don Pedro Gusmanis still alive,—see, see!
Mac. Let us descend to meet a happinesse Crownes all our expectations.
Pedro. Whilst I meetA Thunder strikes me dead. Oh, poore, wrongd Lady,The poyson which the villaine poures on thy honourRuns more into my veines then all the VenomeHe spitts at me or my deare Boy, his brother.My Lords, your pardon that I am transportedWith shame & sorrow thus beyond my selfe,Not paying to you my duty.
All. Your love,Don Pedro.
Mac. Conceale your selfe a while; your sons wele send for, And shew them deaths face presently.
Pedro. Ile play a part in't. [Exit.
Mac. Let them be fetcht, & speake not of a father.
Ten. This shall be done. [Exit.
Mac. Is your Compassion, Lady, yet awake?Remember that the scaffold, hangman, sword,And all the Instruments death playes upon,Are hither calld by you; 'tis you may stay them.When at the Barre there stood your RavisherYou would have savd him, then you made your choyceTo marry him: will you then kill your husband?
Ele. Why did that husband then rather chuse deathThen me to be his bride? is his life mine?Why, then, because the Law makes me his Judge,Ile be, like you, not cruell, but reprieve him;My prisoner shall kisse mercy.
Mac. Y'are a good Lady.
Med. Lady, untill they come, repose your selfe.
[Exit Eleonora.
Mac. How now? so soone come back? why thus returned?
Enter Pike & a Gentleman, with Letters.
Gen. Our Journey toMadridthe Kinge himselfeCutts off, by these his royall letters sentUpon the wings of speed to all your Graces.He lay one night since at your house, my LordWhere, by your noble Wife, he had a wellcomeFitting his greatnes & your will.
Alq. I'me glad of't.
Mac. The King, our Master, writes heere,Englishman, He has lost a subiect by you; yet referres Himselfe to us about you.
Pike. Againe, I stand heereTo lay my own life downe, please his high MaiestyTo take it: for what's lost his fate to fallWasfortune de la guerre, & at the feeteOf his most royal Maiesty & at yours(My Princely Lords & Judges) low as th'earthI throw my wretched selfe & begg his mercy.
Mac. Stand up; that mercy which you aske is signd By our most royall master.
Pike. My thankes to heaven, him & your Graces.
Mac. The King further writes heere, That though your Nation came in Thunder hither Yet he holds out to you his Enemy 2 friendly proffers: serve him in his dominions Eyther by land or sea, & thou shalt live Upon a golden pension, such a harvest As thou nere reapst inEngland.
Pike. His kingly favoursSwell up in such high heapes above my merit,Could I reare up a thousand lives, they cannotReach halfe the way. Ime his, to be his Vassaile,His Gally Slave, please you to chaine me to the oare;But, with his highnes pardon & your allowance,I beg one Boone.
All. What is't?
Pike. That I may once moreSee my owne Country Chimneys cast out smoake.I owe my life and service to the King,(The king ofEngland) let me pay that BondOf my allegeance; &, that being payd,There is another obligation,One to a woefull Wife & wretched ChildrenMade wretched by my misery. I therefore beg,Intreat, emplore, submissively hold up my handsTo have his Kingly pitty & yours to lett me goe.
All. [Alq.?] Let him ene goe.
Mac. Well, since we cannot win you to our service,We will not weane you from your Countryes love.The king, our lord, commands us here to give youA hundred pistoletts to beare you home.
Pike. A royall bounty, which my memoryShall never loose; no, nor these noble favoursWhich from theLady Marquesse AlquevezzeRaynd plenteously on me.
Alq. What did she to thee?
Gyr. How did she entertaine thee?
Pike. Rarely; it is a brave, bounteous, munificent, magnificent Marquezza! the great Turke cannot tast better meat then I have eaten at this ladies Table.
Alq. So, so.
Pike. And for a lodging, if the curtaines about my bed had bene cutt of Sunbeames, I could not lye in a more glorious Chamber.
Mac. You have something, then, to speake of our weomen when y'are inEngland.
Pike. This Box, with a gold chaine in't for my Wife & some pretty things for my Children, given me by your honourd Lady would else cry out on me. There's aSpanishshirt, richly lacd & seemd, her guift too; & whosoever layes a foul hand upon her linnen in scorne of her bounty, were as good flea[54] the Divells skin over his eares.
Mac. Well said: inEnglandthou wilt drinke her health?
Pike. Were it a glasse as deepe to the bottome as aSpanishpike is long, anEnglishmanshall doe't. Her health, &Don Johnswives too.
Enter Jaylor.
Jay. The Prisoners are upon comming.
Mac. Stand by,Englishman.
Enter Teniente, Henrico, Manuell, Pedro (as a fryer); at another dore Eleonora.
Mac. Give the Lady roome there!
Clark. Peace!
Mac. Your facts are both so foule your hated livesCannot be too soone shortned; therefore these LordsHold it not fitt to lend you breath till morning,But now to cutt you off.
Both. The stroke is welcome.
Pedro. Shall I prepare you?
Hen. Save your paynes, good father.
Man. We have allready cast up our accounts And sent, we hope, our debts up into heaven.
Fer. Our sorrowes & our sighes fly after them.
Ped. Then your confession of the murther stands As you your selfe did sett it downe?
Man. It does;But on my knees I beg this marginall noteMay sticke upon the paper; that no guilt,But feare of Tortures frighted me to takeThat horrid sin upon me. I am as innocentAnd free as are the starres from plotting treasonGainst their first mover.
Pedro. I was then inFranceWhen of your fathers murther the report Did fill allParis.
Man. Such a reverend habit Should not give harbour to so blacke a falshood.
Hen. Tis blacke, & of my dying; for 'twas I To cheate my brother of my fathers lands, Layd this most hellish plott.
Fer. 3[55] hellish sins, Robbery, Rape & Murther.
Hen. I'me guilty of all Three; his soul's as white And cleare from murther as this holy man From killing mee.
Pedro. No [know], there's a thing about meShall strike thee into dust & make thy tongueWith trembling to proclayme thyselfe a VillaineMore then thou yet hast done:—See, tis my Eye.
Hen. Oh, I am confounded! [Falls.
Man. But I comforted With the most heavenly apparition Of my deare honourd father.
Fer. Take thou comfort By two more apparitions, of a father And a lost daughter, yet heere found for thee.
Man. Oh, noble sir, I pray forgive my brother.
Ele. See, sir, I doe; & with my hand reach to him My heart to give him new life.
Fer. Rise, myHenrico!
Mac. Rise & receive a noble minded wife Worth troupes of other weomen.
Hen. Shame leaves me speechles.
Pedro. Gett thee a tongue againe, & pray, & mend.
Mac. Letters shall forthwith fly intoMadridTo tell the King the storyes of Two Brothers, Worthy the Courtiers reading. Lovers, take hands:Hymen& gentle faeryes strew your way: Our Sessions turnes into a Bridall day.
All. Fare thee well,Englishman.
Pike. I will ring peales of prayers of you all, My Lords & noble Dons.
Mac. Doe soe, if thou hast iust cause: howsoever, When thy swift ship cutts through the curled mayne, Dance to seeEngland, yet speake well ofSpayne.
Pike. I shall.—Where must I leave my pistoletts?
Gent. Follow mee.
[Exeunt Omnes.