Chapter III: Introduction: To Dick of Devonshire (2)

2. I say the other is a _Spanyard_ & _Don John_; & we dare not shoote the one for feare of killing th'other.

_Jo_. Oh hold and spare us both, for we are frends.

1. But by your leave we will part your embraces: so disarme, disarme.

_Jo_. I thanke you, Countrymen; I hope you'le trust my honour with my armes.

1. Yes, take them signior; but you will yeild the _Englishman_ our prisoner?

_Jo_. Yes, with a Villaines marke. [_He woundes him_.

1. A villaines mark, indeed! wound a disarmed souldier!

_Jo_. He triumphd in the odds he had of me, And he shall know that from the _Spanish_ race Revenge, though nere so bloudy, is not base. Away with him A prisoner into th'Citty!

_Pike_. Where you please, Although your Law's more merciles then Seas.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 5.)

_Enter Don Ferdinando, the Teniente, with
attendants; Bustamente brought in with a Guard_.

_Fer_. _Francisco Bustamente_, late Captaine of the Castle, Stand forth accusd of Treason gainst his Maiesty.

_Bust_. It is a language I not understand And but that by the rule of loyalty Unto my king and country I am made Attendant to the Law, & in this honourd Presence, the Governour & _Teniente_, Under whose jurisdiction I hold place, I would not beare nor heare it.

_Fer_. I'de be glad You could as easily acquitt your selfe Of guilt as stand up in your owne defence; But, _Bustamente_, when it doth appeare To law & reason, on which law is grounded, Your great offence in daring to betray The Spanish honour unto Infamy, In yeilding up the fort on such slight cause, You can no lesse then yeild yourselfe most guilty.

_Bust_. Farre be it from your thought, my honourd Lord, To wrest the hazardous fortune of the warre Into the bloudyer censure of the Law. Was it my fault that in the first assault The Canoniers were slayne, whereby our strength, Our mayne offensive strength, was quite defeated And our defensive part so much enfeebled That possibility to subsist was lost, Or by resistance to preserve one life? While there was sparke of hope I did maintayne The fight with fiery resolution And (give me leave to speake it) like a Sodier.

_Ten_. To my seeming your resolution Was forwardest to yeild then to repell; You had else stood longer out.

_Bust_. We stood the losse of most of our best men, And of our musketiers no lesse then fifty Fell by the adverse shott; whose bodyes with their armes Were cast by my directions downe a well Because their armes should neyther arme our foes Nor of our losse the sight give them encouragement.

_Fer_. That pollicy pleades no excuse; you yet Had men enough, had they bene soldiers, Fit for a Leaders Justification. And doe not we know that 6 score at least Of those base Picaros with which you stuff'd The fort, to feed, not fight,--unworthy of The name of _Spanyards_, much lesse of soldiers-- At once ran all away like sheep together, Having but ore the walls descryde th'approach Of th'Enemy? Some of the feare-spurrd villaines Were overturnd by slaughter in their flight, Others were taken & are sure to find Our lawes as sharpe as either Sword or Bullet. For your part, _Bustamente_, for that you have Done heretofore more for your Countryes love, You shall not doubt of honourable tryall, Which in the Court of warre shalbe determind, At _Sherris_, whitherward you instantly Shall with a guard be sent.--See't done: away.

_Bust_. The best of my desire is to obey.

[_Exit with a Guard_.

_Enter Don John, Pike (with his face wounded}, a Guard of musketts_.

_Fer_. Whence is that soldier?

1. Of _England_.

_Jo_. Or of hell.

1. It was our chance to come unto the rescue Of this renowned knight, _Don John_, Who was his prisoner as he now is ours. Some few more of his mates we shott & slew That were (out of their _English_ liquorishness) Bold to robb orchards of forbidden fruite.

2. It was a fine ambition; they would have thought Themselves as famous as their Countryman That putt a girdle[25] round about the world, Could they have said, at their returne to _England_, Unto their Sons, "Looke Boyes; this fruite your father With his adventurous hands in _Spayne_ did gather."

_Fer_. 'Tis a goodly fellow.

1. Had you not better have gone home without Lymons to eate Capons with your frends then to stay here without Capons to taste Lymons with us that you call Enemyes?

_Pike_. I could better fast with a noble Enemy then feast with unworthy frends.

_Fer_. How came he by these woundes?

_Pike_. Not by noble Enemyes: this on my face By this proud man, yet not more proud then base; For, when my hands were in a manner bound, I having given him life, he gave this wound.

_Fer_. 'Twas unadvisd.

_Ten_. The more unmanly done: And though, _Don John_, by law y'are not accusd, He being a common Enemy, yet being a man You in humanity are not excusd.

_Jo_. It was my fury & thirst of revenge.

_Fer_. Reason & manhood had become you better; Your honour's wounded deeper then his flesh. Yet we must quitt your person & committ The _Englishman_ to prison.

_Ten_. To prison with him; but let best care be taken For the best surgeons, that his wounds be look'd to.

_Pike_. Your care is noble, and I yeild best thankes; And 'tis but need, I tell your Seignioryes, For I have one hurt more then you have seene, As basely given & by a baser person: A _Flemming_ seeing me led a prisoner Cryde, "Whither doe you lead that _English_ dog, Kill, kill him!" cryde hee, "he's no Christian;" And ran me in the bodie with his halbert At least four inches deepe.

_Fer_. Poore man, I pitty thee.--But to the prison with him.

_Ten_. And let him be carefully lookt to.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

_Actus Tertius_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Captaine, Hill, Secretary, Jewell_.

_Cap_. Our Generall yet shewd himselfe right noble in offering ransome for poore Captive _Pike_.

_Sec_. So largely, too, as he did, Captaine.

_Cap_. If any reasonable price would have bene accepted it had bene given Mr. Secretary, I assure you.

_Jew_. I can testify that at our returne, in our Generalls name & my owne, I made the large offer to the _Teniente_, who will by no meanes render him. Sure they hold him for some great noble purchace.

_Sec_. A Barronet at least, one of the lusty blood, Captaine.

_Cap_. Or perhaps, Mr. Secretary, some remarkable Commonwealths man, a pollitician in Government.

_Sec_. 'Twere a weake state-body that could not spare such members. Alas, poore _Pike_, I thinke thy pate holds no more pollicy than a Pollax.

_Hill_. Who is more expert in any quality then he that hath it at his fingers ends; & if he have more pollicy in his braines then dirt under his nayles Ile nere give 2 groates for a Calves head. But without all question he hath done some excellent piece of villany among the Diegoes, or else they take him for a fatter sheep to kill then he is.

_Cap_. Well, gentlemen, we all can but condole the losse of him; and though all that we all come hither for be not worth him, yet we must be content to leave him. The fleete is ready, the wind faire, and we must expect him no longer.

_Hill_. He was a true _Devonshire_ blade.

_Sec_. My Countryman, sir: therefore would I have given the price of a hundred of the best Toledoes rather then heare the misse of him at home complayned by his Wife and Children.

_Jew_. Your tendernes becomes you, sir, but not the time, which wafts us hence to shun a greater danger.

_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Pike in shackles, nightcap, playsters on his face; a Jaylor_.

_Pike_. The fleete is gone & I have now no hope of liberty; yet I am well refreshd in the care hath bene taken for my cure. But was ever _English_ horse thus _Spanish_ bitted & bossd![26]

_Jay_. Sir, the care of your keeper, by whom this ease hath been procured, requires remuneration.

_Pike_. Here's for you, my frend.

_Jay_. I assure you, the best Surgeons this part of _Spaine_ affoords, through my care taken of you; & you may thanke me.

_Pike_. What an arrogant rascall's this!--Sir, I thought my thankes herein had chiefly appertaind to the humanity of the Governour, & that your especiall care had bene in providing these necessary shackles to keepe me from running into further danger: these I tooke to be the strong bonds of your frendship.

_Jay_. Sir, I hope they fitt you as well as if they had bene made for you. Oh, I am so much your servant that I doe wish 'em stronger for your sake.

_Pike_. 'Tis overwell as it is, sir.

_Jay_. You are most curteous. [_Exit_.

_Pike_. A precious rogue! If the Jaylors be so pregnant what is the hangman, troe? By the time my misery hath brought me to climbe to his acquaintance I shall find a frend to the last gaspe. What's here? a Lady? are the weomen so cruell here to insult ore Captive wretches.

_Enter Catelyna & Jaylor_.

_Cat_. Is this the English prisoner?

_Jay_. Yes, madam.

_Cat_. Trust me, a goodly person.

_Pike_. She eyes me wistly; sure she comes not to instruct her selfe in the art of painting by the patternes of my face!

_Cat_. Sir, shall I speake with you?

_Pike_. Yes, Lady, so you will not mock mee.

_Cat_. Indeed I cannot, but must needs acknowledge Myselfe beholding to you.

_Pike_. This I must beare; I will doe soe & call't my sweet affliction.

_Cat_. Will you heare me, sir? I am the Lady--

_Pike_. Yes, I doe heare you say you are the Lady; but let me tell you, madam, that Ladyes, though they should have tenderest sence of honour & all vertuous goodnesse, & so resemble Goddesses as well in soule as feature, doe often prove dissemblers & in their seemely breasts beare cruelty & mischiefe. If you be one of those, oh, be converted; returne from whence you came & know 'tis irreligious, nay divelish to tread & triumph over misery.

_Cat_. How well he speakes, yet in the sence bewraying A sence distracted: sure his captivity, His wounds, & hard entreaty make him franticke! Pray heare me, sir, & in two words Ile tell you Enough to win beleeife: I am the Lady Of the Knight vanquished by you, _Don John_.

_Pike_. Y'have said enough, indeed: pitty of heaven, What new invented cruelty is this! Was't not enough that by his ruthlesse basenes I had these wounds inflicted, but I must Be tortured with his wifes uniust reioycings! 'Twas well his politicke feare, which durst not come To glory in his handy worke himselfe, Could send your priviledg'd Ladyship.

_Cat_. Indeed, you much mistake me; as I live, As I hope mercy & for after life, I come for nothing but to offer thankes Unto your goodnes, by whose manly temper My lord and husband reassum'd his life; And aske your Christian pardon for the wrong Which by your suffering now pleads him guilty. Good sir, let no mistrust of my iust purpose Crosse your affection: did you know my love To honour and to honest actions, You would not then reiect my gratulations. And since that deeds doe best declare our meaning, I pray accept of this, This money and these clothes and my request Unto your keeper for best meats and wines That are agreable to your health and taste. And, honest frend, thou knowst and darest, I hope, Believe me I will see thee payd for all.

_Jay_. Yes, my good Lady.--Loe you, sir, you see Still how my care provides your good: you may Suppose the Governours humanity Takes care for you in this, too.

_Pike_. Excellent Ladye I doe now beleive Virtue and weomen are growne frends againe.

_Enter Don John_.

_Jo_. What magicall Illusion's this? 'tis she! Confusion seize your charitable blindnesse! Are you a prison visiter for this, To cherish my dishonour for your merit?

_Cat_. My lord, I hope my Charity workes for your honour, Releiving him whose mercy spard your life.

_Jo_. But that I'me subiect to the law & know My blowes are mortall, I would strike thee dead. Ignoble & degenerate from Spanish bloud, Darst thou maintaine this to be charity? Thy strumpett itch & treason to my bed Thou seekst to act in cherishing this villaine.

_Cat_. Saints be my witnesses you doe me wrong!

_Jo_. Thou robbst my honour.

_Pike_. You wound her honour and you robb yourselfe, And me and all good Christians, by this outrage.

_Jo_. Doe you prate, sir?

_Pike_. Sir, I may speake; my tongue's unshackled yet, And, were my hands and feete so, on free ground I would mayntayne the honour of this Lady Against an Hoast of such ignoble husbands.

_Jo_. You are condemnd allready by the Law I make no doubt; and therefore speake your pleasure. --And here come those fore whom my rage is silent.

_Enter Ferdinando, Teniente, Guard_.

_Fer_. Deliver up your prisoner to the _Teniente_. I need not, sir, instruct you in your place To beare him with a guard as is appointed Unto the publicke tryall held at _Sherrys_.

_Ten_. It shalbe done.

_Fer_. How long hath he bene your prisoner?

_Jay_. 18 days.

_Fer_. You & the Surgeons out of the Kings pay Ile see dischargd.--You have, according to the Order, Conveyd already _Bustamente_ thither To yeild account for yeilding up the Castle?

_Ten_. 'Tis done, my Lord.

_Fer_. _Don John_, you likewise in his Maiesties name Stand chargd to make your personall appearance To give in evidence against this prisoner.

_Jo_. I shall be ready there, my Lord.

_Pike_. To _Sherrys_? they say the best sackes there. I meane to take one draught of dying comfort.

_Cat_. I hope you'le not deny my company To waite on you to _Sherris_?

_Jo_. No, you shall goe to see your frend there totter.[27]

_Pike_. I have a suite, my Lord; to see an _Englishman_, A merchant, prisoner here, before I goe.

_Fer_. Call him; that done, you know your charge.

[_Exit Jaylor_.

_Ten_. And shall performe it.

[_Ex. Fer., John, Catalina_.

_Enter Jaylor & Woodrow_.

_Pike_. Oh, Mr. _Woodrow_, I must now take leave Of prison fellowship with you. Your fortunes May call you into _England_, after payment Of some few money debts; but I am calld Unto a further tryall: my debt is life, Which if they take not by extortion, I meane by tortures, I shall gladly pay it.

_Wo_. I have heard, & thought you by what I had heard Free from feares passion: still continue soe, Depending on heavens mercy.

_Pike_. You doe instruct me well; but, worthy Countryman, Once more let me give you this to remember, And tis my last request:--that when your better stars Shall guide you into _England_, youle be pleasd To take my Country _Devonshire_ in your way; Wheir you may find in _Taverstoke_ (whom I left) My wife & children, wretched in my misfortunes. Commend me to them, tell them & my frends That if I be, as I suspect I shalbe, At _Sherris_ putt to death, I dyed a Christian soldier, No way, I hope, offending my iust King Nor my religion, but the _Spanish_ lawes.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Enter Don Pedro, reading a Letter, & Manuell_.

_Man_. Dear sir, let me have power to recall Your graver thoughts out of this violent storme Of passion that thus oerwhelmes your mind. Remember what you are, and with what strength, What more then manly strength, you have outworne Dangers of Battaile, when your warlike lookes Have outfac'd horrour.

_Pedro_. Oh, my son, my son, Horrour it selfe upon the wings of Death, Stretcht to the uttermost expansion Over the wounded body of an Army, Could never carry an aspect like this, This murthering spectacle, this field of paper Stucke all with Basiliskes eyes. Read but this word, 'The ravisht _Eleonora_!'--does't not seeme Like a full cloud of bloud ready to burst And fall upon our heads?

_Man_. Indeed you take too deepe a sence of it.

_Pedro_. What? when I see this meteor hanging ore it? This prodigy in figure of a man, Clad all in flames, with an Inscription Blazing on's head, 'Henrico the Ravisher!'

_Man_. Good sir, avoid this passion.

_Pedro_. In battailes I have lost, and seene the falls Of many a right good soldier; but they fell Like blessed grayne that shott up into honour. But in this leud exploit I lose a son And thou a brother, my _Emanuell_, And our whole house the glory of her name: Her beauteous name that never was distayned, Is by this beastly fact made odious.

_Man_. I pray, sir, be your selfe and let your Judgement Entertaine reason: From whom came this Letter?

_Pedro_. From the sad plaintiffe, _Eleonora_.

_Man_. Good; And by the common poast: you every weeke Receiving letters from your noble frendes Yet none of their papers can tell any such tidings.

_Pedro_. All this may be too, sir.

_Man_. Why is her father silent? has she no kindred, No frend, no gentleman of note, no servant Whom she may trust to bring by word of mouth Her dismall story.

_Pedro_. No, perhaps she would not Text up his name in proclamations.

_Man_. Some villaine hath filld up a Cup of poyson T'infect the whole house of the _Guzman_ family; And you are greedyest first to take it downe.

_Pedro_. That villaine is thy brother.

_Man_. Were you a stranger Armd in the middle of a great Battalion And thus should dare to taxe him, I would wave My weapon ore my head to waft you forth To single combatt: if you would not come, Had I as many lives as I have hayres,[28] I'de shoot 'em all away to force my passage Through such an hoast untill I met the Traytour To my dear brother.--Pray, doe not thinke so, sir.

_Pedro_. Not? when it shall be said one of our name (Oh heaven could I but say he were not my son!) Was so dishonorable, So sacrilegious to defile a Temple Of such a beauty & goodnes as she was!

_Man_. As beauteous is my brother in his soule As she can be.

_Pedro_. Why dost thou take his part so?

_Man_. Because no dropp of honour falls from him But I bleed with it. Why doe I take his part? My sight is not so precious as my brother: If there be any goodnes in one man He's Lord of that; his vertues are full seas Which cast up to the shoares of the base world All bodyes throwne into them: he's no drunkard; I thinke he nere swore oath; to him a woman Was worse than any scorpion, till he cast His eye on _Eleonora_: and therefore, sir, I hope it is not so.

_Pedro_. Was not she so?

_Man_. I doe not say, sir, that she was not so, Yet women are strange creatures; but my hope Is that my brother was not so ignoble. Good sir, be not too credulous on a Letter: Who knowes but it was forgd, sent by some foe, As the most vertuous ever have the most? I know my Brother lov'd her honour so As wealth of kingdoms could not him entice To violate it or his faith to her. Perhapps it is some queint devise of theirs To hast your journey homeward out of _France_, To terminate their long-desired marriage.

_Pedro_. The language of her letter speakes no such comfort, But I will hasten home; &, for you are So confident as not to thinke his honour Any way toucht, your good hopes be your guide Auspiciously to find it to your wish. Therefore my counsaile is you post before, And, if you find that such a wrong be done, Let such provision instantly be Betwixt you made to hide it from the world By giving her due nuptiall satisfaction, That I may heare no noise of't at my comming. Oh, to preserve the Reputation Of noble ancestry that nere bore stayne, Who would not passe through fire or dive the mayne?

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 4.)

_Enter Fernando & Eleonora_.

_Fer_. Cease, Eleonora, cease these needles plaints, Less usefull than thy helpe of hands was at The deed of darkness,--oh, the blackest deed That ever overclouded[29] my felicity! To speake, or weepe thy sorrow, but allayes And quenches anger, which we must now cherish To further iust revenge. How I could wish But to call backe the strength of Twenty yeares!

_Ele_. That I might be in that unborne againe, sir.

_Fer_. No, _Eleonora_, that I were so ennabled With my owne hands to worke out thy wronge Upon that wretch, that villaine, oh, that Ravisher! But, though my hands are palsyed with rage, The Law yet weares a sword in our defence.

_Enter Henrico_.

_Ele_. Away, my Lord & Father! see the monster Approaching towards you! who knowes but now He purposeth an assassinate on your life, As he did lately on my Virgin honour?

_Fer_. Fury, keepe off me!

_Hen_. What life, what honour meane you? _Eleonora_, What is the matter? Who hath lost anything?

_Ele_. Thou impudent as impious, I have lost--

_Hen_. Doe you call me names?

_Ele_. The solace of my life, for which--

_Hen_. A fine new name for a maydenhead!

_Ele_. May all the curses of all iniured weomen Fall on thy head!

_Hen_. Would not the curses of all good ones serve? So many might perhaps be borne: but, pray, Tell me what moves you thus? Why stand you soe Aloofe, my Lord? I doe not love to bee Usd like a stranger: welcome's all I looke for.

_Fer_. What boldnesse beyond madnesse gives him languadge! Nothing but well-bred stuffe! canst see my daughter And not be strooke with horrour of thy shame To th' very heart? Is't not enough, thou Traytour, To my poore Girles dishonour to abuse her, But thou canst yett putt on a divells visour To face thy fact & glory in her woe?

_Hen_. I would I were acquainted with your honours meaning all this while.

_Fer_. The forreine Enemy which came to the Citty And twice dancd on the Sea before it, waving Flaggs of defyance & of fury to it, Were nor before nor now this second time So cruell as thou. For when they first were here Now well nigh 40 yeares since, & marched through The very heart of this place, trampled on The bosomes of our stoutest soldiers, The weomen yet were safe, Ladyes were free And that by the especial command Of the then noble Generall: & now being safe From common danger of our enemyes, Thou lyon-like hast broake in on a Lambe And preyd upon her.

_Hen_. How have I preyd?

_Fer_. Dost thou delight To heare it named, villaine, th'hast ravisht her.

_Hen_. I am enough abusd, & now 'tis time To speake a litle for my selfe, my Lord. By all the vowes, the oathes & imprecations That ere were made, studied, or practised, As I have a soule, as she & you have soules, I doe not know, nor can, nor will confesse Any such thing, for all your Circumventions: Ile answer all by Law.

_Ele_. Oh, my Lord, heare me! By all that's good--

_Fer_. Peace, _Eleonora_; I have thought the Course. If you dare justify the accusation You shall to _Sherrys_, and then before the Judges Plead your owne cause.

_Hen_. And there Ile answer it.

_Fer_. There, if you prove the Rape, he shalbe forcd Eyther to satisfy you by marriage Or else to loose his periurd head.

_Hen_. I am content. And instantly I will away to _Sherrys_, There to appeale to the high Court of Justice: 'Tis time, I thinke, such slanderous accusations Assayling me; but there I shalbe righted.

_Fer_. You shall not need to doubt it:--come, _Eleonora_.

[_Exeunt_.[30]

_Hen_. What will become of me in this, I know not: I have a shrewd guese though of the worst. Would one have thought the foolish ape would putt The finger in the eye & tell it daddy! 'Tis a rare guift 'mong many maides of these dayes; If she speed well she'le bring it to a Custome, Make her example followed to the spoyle Of much good sport: but I meane to looke to't. Now, sir, your newes?

_Enter Buzzano_.

_Buz_. The most delicious, rare, absolute newes that ere came out of _France_, sir!

_Hen_. What's done there? have they forsaken the Divell & all his fashions? banishd their Taylors & Tyrewomen?

_Buz_. You had a father & a Brother there; & can you first thinke upon the Divell & his Limetwiggs.

_Hen_. Had, _Buzzano_? had a father & a Brother there? have I not so, still, _Buzzano_?

_Buz_. No, sir, your Elder Brother is--

_Hen_. What? speake, _Buzzano_: I imagine, dead.

_Buz_. Nay, you shall give me something by your leave; you shall pay the poast:--good newes for nothing?

_Hen_. Here, here, _Buzzano_; speake quickly, crowne me with the felicity of a younger brother: is he dead, man?

_Buz_. No, he's come home very well, sir; doe you thinke I goe on dead men's errands.

_Hen_. Pox on the Buzzard! how he startled my bloud!

_Buz_. But he is very weary & very pensive, sir; talkes not at all, but calls for his bed;--pray God your Father be not dead!--and desires when you come in to have you his Bedfellow, for he hath private speech with ye.

_Hen_, Well, sir, you that are so apt to take money for newes, beware how you reflect one word, sillable or thought concerning _Eleonora_: you knowe what I meane?

_Bus_. Yes, & meane what you know, sir.

_Hen_. What's that?

_Buz_. Ile keepe your Counsaile

_Hen_. My life goes for it else.

{_Exeunt_.

_Actus Quartus_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Henrico (as newly risen)_.

_Hen_. _Buzzano_! slave! _Buzzano_!

_Enter Buzzano with Cloake & Rapier_.

_Buz_. Signior, what a buzzing you make, as if you were a fly at Bartholomew-tyde at a Butchers stall: doe you think I am deafe?

_Hen_. No, but blind; do'st sleepe as thou goest?

_Buz_. No, but I goe as I sleepe, & that's scurvily.

_Hen_. Call my brother Manuell.

_Buz_. Brother _Manuell_!

_Hen_. How? pray (goodman rascall) how long have he & you bene Brothers?

_Buz_. I know not; may be ever since we were borne, for your father used to come home to my mother, & why may not I be a chipp of the same blocke out of which you two were cutt? Mothers are sure of their children, but no man is able to sweare who was his father.

_Hen_. You are very lusty.

_Buz_. I eate eringoes[31] and potchd eggs last night.

_Hen_. Goe & call him.

_Buz_. What?

_Hen_. You hound, is he up?

_Buz_. No, he's in Bed, and yet he may be up too; Ile goe see.

_Hen_. Stay, and speake low.--How now?

[_Buz. falls downe_.

_Buz_. I can speake no lower unlesse I creepe into the Cellar.

_Hen_. I'me glad you are so merry, sir.

_Buz_. So am I; my heart is a fiddle; the strings are rozend with ioy that my other young Mr. is come home, & my tongue the sticke that makes the fiddle squeake.

_Hen_. Come hither, leave your fooling & tell me truely: didst sleepe to night or no?

_Buz_. Sleepe? Not that I remember: Ile sweare (& my eyes should come out as 2 witnesses) that I nere slept worse; for what with ycur _Spanish_ flyes (the pocky, stinging musquitoes) & what with your skip Jacke fleas, the nap of my sleepe was worne off.

_Hen_. Didst heare nothing?

_Buz_. Not in my sleepe.

_Hen_. Collect thy sences; when thou wert awake didst thou heare nothing?

_Buz_. Nothing.

_Hen_. Twixt 12 & one?

_Buz_. 12 & one? Then was I in my dead sleepe, cursing the fleas.

_Hen_. Or about one & two.

_Buz_. That's Three:--Now the Beetle[32] of my head beates it into my memory that as you & your brother _Manuell_ lay in the high Bed, & I trondling[33] underneath, I heard one of you talke most stigmatically in his sleepe--most horriferously.

_Hen_. Right, now thou com'st to me,--so did I.

_Buz_. And then once or twice the sleepy voice cryde out, "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killd him!"

_Hen_. Art sure thou heardst this?

_Buz_. Am I sure these are my eares?

_Hen_. And dar'st thou sweare thou heardst it?

_Buz_. Lay downe 20 oathes, and see if Ile not take them.

_Hen_. And whose voice was it did appeare to thee?

_Buz_. Whose voice was it? Well said, yong Master! make an asse of your fathers man!

_Hen_. Come, come, be serious: whose voice?

_Buz_. Whose voice? why then, if your windpipe were slitt now and opend, there should the voice be found. I durst at midnight be sworne that the Ghost of your voice appeard before me.

_Hen_. No; me it frighted too; up stood my haire stiffe & on end.

_Buz_. As a Catts does at sight of a dog.

_Hen_. A cold sweat pearld in dropps all ore my body; For 'twas my Brothers voice, & were I calld Before a thousand Judges I must sweare It could be no mans els.

_Buz_. Why, then, I must sweare so, too.

_Hen_. "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killed him!"

[_Within, Man_] _Buzzano_!

_Hen_. He's up.

[_Man_.] _Buzzano_!

_Buz_. I come.

_Hen_. Helpe to make him ready,[34] but not a word on thy life.

_Buz_. Mum. [_Exit_.

_Hen_. So let it worke; thus far my wheeles goe true. Because a Captaine, leading up his men In the proud van, has honour above them, And they his vassailes; must my elder brother Leave me a slave to the world? & why, forsooth? Because he gott the start in my mother's belly, To be before me there. All younger brothers Must sitt beneath the salt[35] & take what dishes The elder shoves downe to them. I doe not like This kind of service: could I, by this tricke, Of a voice counterfeited & confessing The murther of my father, trusse up this yonker And so make my selfe heire & a yonger brother Of him, 'twere a good dayes worke. Wer't not fine angling? Hold line and hook: Ile puzzle him.

_Enter Manuell & Buzzano_.

_Man_. Morrow, brother.

_Hen_. Oh, good morrow: you have slept soundly.

_Man_. Travellers that are weary have sleepe led in a string.

_Buz_. So doe those that are hangd: all that travell & are weary doe not sleepe.

_Man_. Why, Mr. _Buzzano_, why?

_Buz_. Midwives travell at night & are weary with eating groaning pyes[36], & yet sleepe not: shall I hooke you?

_Man_. Hooke me? what meanst?

_Buz_. These Taylors are the wittyest knaves that live by bread.

_Hen_. And why witty, out of your wisdome?

_Buz_. In old time gentlemen would call to their men & cry, "Come, trusse me": now the word is "Come, hooke me"; for every body now lookes so narrowly to Taylors bills (some for very anger never paying them) that the needle lance knights, in revenge of those prying eyes, put so many hookes & eyes to every hose & dubblet.

_Man_. Well, sir, Ile not be hookd then now.

_Buz_. Tis well if you be not. [_Exit_.

_Hen_. _France_ is an excellent country.

_Man_. Oh, a brave one.

_Hen_. Your Monsieurs gallant sparkes.

_Man_. Sparkes? oh, sir, all fire, The soule of complement, courtship & fine language; Witty & active; lovers of faire Ladyes, Short naggs & _English_ mastives; proud, fantasticke, Yet such a pride & such fantasticknes, It so becomes them, other Nations (Especially the English) hold themselves No perfect gentlemen till frenchifyed.

_Hen_. Tush, _England_ breeds more apes than _Barbary_.-- How chance my father came not home with you?

_Man_. He was too hard tyed by the leg with busines.

_Hen_. What busines?

_Man_. Tis but stepping into _France_. And he perhaps will tell you.

_Hen_. Perhaps? tis well: What part of _France_ did you leave him in?

_Man_. What part? why I left him at _Nancy_ in _Lorraine_. No, no, I lye, now I remember me twas at _Chaalons_ in _Burgundy_.

_Hen_. Hoyda, a most loving child That knowes not where he left his father, & yet Comes but now from him! had you left in _France_ Your whore behind you, in your Table bookes You would have sett downe the streets very name, Yes, and the baudy signe, too.

_Man_. Hum, you say well, sir. Now you are up to th'eares in Baudery, Pray tell me one thing, Brother; (I am sorry To putt forth such a question) but speake truly; Have you not in my fathers absence done A piece of worke (not your best masterpiece) But such an one as on the house of _Guzman_ Will plucke a vengeance, & on the good old man (Our noble father) heape such hills of sorrow To beate him into his grave?

_Hen_. What's this your foolery?

_Man_. Pray heaven it prove soe: have not you defac'd That sweet & matchles goodnes, _Eleonora_, _Fernando's_ daughter?

_Hen_. How defacd her?

_Man_. Hearke, sir: playd _Tarquin's_ part and ravisht her.

_Hen_. 'Tis a lye.

_Man_. I hope so too.

_Hen_. What villaine speakes it?

_Man_. One with so wide a throat, that uttering it 'Twas heard in _France_; a letter, sir, informed My father so.

_Hen_. Letter? from whom?

_Man_. A woman.

_Hen_. She's a whore.

_Man_. Twas _Eleonora_.

_Hen_. She's, then, a villanous strumpet so to write, And you an asse, a coxcomb to beleeve it.

_Man_. Nettled? then let me tell you that I feare I shall for ever blush when in my hearing Any names _Henrico Guzman_ for my brother. In right of vertue & a womans honour (This deare wrongd Ladies) I dare call thee Villaine.

_Hen_. Villaine!

_They fight: Enter Ferdinand and attendants_.

_Fer_. Part them, part them!

_Hen_. Let me see his heart Panting upon my weapons point; then part us. Oh, pray, forbeare the roome.

_Fer_. Fy, Fy! two Brothers. Two Eaglets of one noble Aery, Pecke out each others eyes!--Welcome from _France_! How does your honourd father?

_Man_. Well, my Lord: I left him late in Paris.

_Hen_. So, so; in _Paris_! Hath he 3 bodyes? _Lorraine, Burgundy, & Paris_! My Lord, his Highnes putts into your hand A sword of Justice: draw it forth, I charge you By the oath made to your king, to smite this Traytour, The murtherer of my father!

_Man_. I?

_Hen_. Yes, thou: Thou, slave, hast bene his Executioner.

_Man_. Where? when?

_Hen_. There, there; in _France_.

_Man_. Oh heavenly powers!

_Hen_. Oh, intollerable villaine! parricide! Monster of mankind! _Spaniards_ shame!

_Fer_. Pray, heare me: Are you in earnest?

_Hen_. Earnest?

_Fer_. Be advisd.

_Hen_. Lay hold on him, the murtherer of my father: I have armd proofes against him.

_Man_. An armd devill, And that's thy selfe! Produce thy proofes.

_Hen_. I will, sir; But I will doe't by law.

_Fer_. You are up allready Too deepe, I feare, in Law.

_Hen_. If you can, sett then Your foote upon my head & drowne me, your worst: Let me have Justice here.

_Fer_. Well, sir, you shall. _Manuell_, I can no lesse than lay upon you The hand of my authority. In my Caroach[37] You shall with mee to _Sherris_, 3 leagues off, Where the Lords sitt to-morrow: there you must answer This most unbrotherly accusation.

_Man_. And prove him a false caytiffe.

_Fer_. I will be both your guard, sir, and your bayle And make no doubt to free you from this Viper.

_Hen_. Viper!

_Fer_. Y'are bound to appeare at _Sherris_, sir; And you were best not fayle. I have a certaine Daughter there shall meete you. Come.

[_Exit Fer., Man., &_[38]

_Hen_. Thither I dare you both, all three.--_Buzzano_!

_Buz_. Sir?

_Hen_. Saddle my Jennet? Ile to _Sherris_ presently.

_Buz_. And I?

_Hen_. And you; but I must schoole you, sirra.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 2.)

_Enter Pike, shackled, & his Jaylour_.

_Jay_. Boon Coragio, man! how is't?

_Pike_. Not very well & yet well enough, considering how the cheating dice of the world run.

_Jay_. I dare not, though I have a care of you, ease you of one Iron unles I desire such Gyves my selfe.

_Pike_. Las, if they were all knockt off I'me loaden with Gyves, Shackles, and fetters enough for the arrantest theefe that ever lay in my owne country in Newgate.

_Jay_. Shackles, gyves, and fetters enough! I see none but these at your heeles, which come on without a shoeing horne.

_Pike_. Yes, at my heart I weare them--a wife & children (my poore Lambes at home); there's a chaine of sighes and sobbes and sorrow, harder then any Iron; and this chaine is so long it reaches from _Sherrys_ to _Tavestock_ in _Devonshire_.

_Jay_. That's farre enough in Conscience.

_Pike_. Could I shake those Chaines off I would cutt Capers: poore _Dick Pike_ would dance though Death pip'd to him; yes, and spitt in your Hangman's face.

_Jay_. Not too much of that nayther: some 2 dayes hence he will give you a choake peare[39] will spoyle your spitting.

_Pike_. Pheu!

_Jay_. For, let me see, to-day is Sunday; to-morrow the Lords sitt, and then I must have a care--a cruell care--to have your leggs handsome and a new cleane ruff band about your necke, of old rusty iron; 'twill purge your choller.

_Pike_. I, I, let it, let it: Collers, halters, & hangmen are to me bracelets and frendly companions.

[_Knocking-within_.

_Jay_. So hasty? stay my leasure.--(_Enter 2 fryers_) Two fryers come to prepare you. [_Exit_.

I. Hayle, Countryman! for we, though fryers in _Spaine_, Were born in _Ireland_.

_Pike_. Reverend sir, y'are welcome: Too few such visitants, nay none at all, Have I seen in this damnable Limbo.

2. Brother, take heed; doe not misuse that word Of Limbo.[40]

1. Brother _Pike_, for so we heare, Men call you, we are come in pure devotion And charity to your soule, being thereto bound By holy orders of our mother Church.

_Pike_. What to doe, pray, with me?[41]

1. To point with our fingers Out all such rockes, shelves, quicksands, gulfes, & shallowes Lying in the sea through which you are to passe In the most dangerous voyage you ere made: Eyther by our care to sett you safe on land, Or, if you fly from us your heavenly pilotts, Sure to be wrackt for ever.

_Pike_. What must I doe?

2. Confesse to one of us what rancke and foule impostumes Have bred about your soule.

1. What Leprosies Have run ore all your Conscience.

2. What hott feavers Now shake your peace of mind.

1. For we are come To cure your old Corruptions.

2. We are come To be your true and free Physitians.

1. Without the hope of gold, to give you health.

2. To sett you on your feete on the right way.

1. To _Palestine_, the _New Jerusalem_.

2. Say; Will you unlocke the closet of your heart To one of us? chuse which, & be absolvd For all your blacke Crimes on a free confession?

1. To him or me, for you must dye to morrow.

_Pike_. Welcome! To morrow shall I be in another country, Where are no Examiners, nor Jayles, Nor bolts, nor barres, nor irons. I beseech you Give me a little respite to retire Into the next roome, & I will instantly Returne to give you satisfaction. [_Exit_.

_Ambo_. Goe, brother.

1. A goodly man!

2. Well limbd & strong of heart.

1. Now I well view his face did not we two At our last being in _Plymouth_ in disguise, When there the King of _England_ rode about To see the soldiers in their musterings And what their armes were, just before this fleet Sett out, did we not see him there?

2. May be we did; I know not; if he were there 'tis now out of my memory.

_Enter Pike_.

1. Are you resolvd?

_Pike_. Yes.

2. To confesse?

_Pike_. I ha' don't already.

1. To whom?

_Pike_. To one who is in better place And greater power then you to cure my sicke Infected part, though maladies as infinite As the sea sands, the grassy spears on earth, Or as the dropps of raine & stars in the firmament Stucke on me he can cleare all, cleanse me throughly.

2. You will not then confesse?

_Pike_. No, I confesse I will not.

1. We are sorry for you; For Countryes sake this Counsaile do I give you: When y'are before the Lords rule well your tongue, Be wary how you answer, least they tripp you; For they know the whole number of your shipps, Burthen, men & munition, as well As you in _England_.

_Pike_. I thanke you both.

2. Prepare to dye.
[_Exeunt Fryers_.

_Pike_. I will so.--Prepare to dye! An excellent bell & it sounds sweetly. He that prepares to dye rigges a goodly ship; he that is well prepard is ready to launch forth; he that prepares well & dyes well, arrives at a happy haven. Prepare to dye! preparation is the sauce, death the meate, my soule & body the guests; & to this feast will I goe, boldly as a man, humbly as a Christian, & bravely as an _Englishman_. Oh my Children, my Children! my poore Wife & Children!

_Enter Jaylour, & 3 Spanish Picaroes chayned_.

_Jay_. Here's a chearefull morning towards, my brave blouds!

1. Yes, Jaylor, if thou wert to be hangd in one of our roomes.

_Jay_. On, on; the Lords will sitt presently.

2. What's hee?

_Jay_. An _Englishman_.

3. A dog!

1. A divell!

2. Let's beate out his braines with our Irons.

_Jay_. On, on; leave rayling, cursing & lying: had you not run from the Castle the hangman & you had bene "hayle fellow! well met:" On!

_All_. Crowes pecke thy eyes out, _English_ dog, curre, toad, hell hound! [_Exeunt_.

_Pike_. Patience is a good armour, humility a strong headpiece, would I had you all three, I know where.

_Enter Bustamente shackled, & Jaylor_.

_Bust_. Whither dost lead me?

_Jay_. To a roome by your selfe: 'tis my office to have a care of my nurse children.

_Bust_. I have worne better _Spanish_ gaiters: thus rewarded for my service!

_Jay_. See, Capt. _Bustamente_; doe you know this fellow?

_Bust_. No.

_Jay_. The Englishman brought prisoner into the Citty, & from thence hither.

_Pike_. Oh, Captaine, I saw you at the fort performe the part of a man.

_Bust_. And now thou seest me acting the part of a slave. Farewell, soldier. I did not hate thee at the first, though there we mett enemyes; and if thou & I take our leaves at the Gallowes, prithee letts part friends. [_A Table out, sword & papers[42]

_Jay_. Come along, you two.

_Pike_. Hand in hand, if the Captaine please: noble _Bustamente_, at the winning of the fort we had a brave breakfast.

_Bust_. True, but I doubt not we shall have worse cheare at dinner.

_Jay_. When was ever any meat well dressd in the hangmans kitchen!

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 3.)

_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 the _Teniente_?

_Clarke_. The Duke calls for you.

_Ten_. Here, my Lord.

_Mac_. 'Tis the King's pleasure that those fugitives Which basely left the fort should not be honourd With a judiciall tryall, but presently (Both those you have at home & these in _Sherrys_) 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_. Bring _Bustamente_ in.
[_Exit Jaylour_.

_Mac_. My Lords, here's _Don Fernando_ relates to me Two stories full of wonder; one of his daughter, Fam'd for her vertues, faire _Eleonora_, Accusing _Don Henrico_, youngest sonne To noble _Pedro Guzman_, of a rape; Another of the same _Henrico's_, charging His elder brother _Manuell_ with the murther Of _Pedro Guzman_, who went late to _France_.

_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 abide Longer imprisonment.

_Bust_. I have allready quitted My 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 the _English_ More glory by your base ignoble rendring That fort up then our Nation gott from them In 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 are _Don Pedro's_ sons?

_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 meete Here face to face, in th' afternoone. Meantime Pray, _Don Fernando_, let it be your care To see these gentlemen attended on By 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 the _Englishman_?

_Clarke_. The _Englishman_!

_Alq_. What do you call him? _Dick of Devonshire_?

_Med_. Because he is a soldier let him have A soldier's honour; bring him from his prison Full in the face of the whole Towne of _Sherrys_, 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 the _Teniente_?

_Ten_. Here, my Lord.

_Med_. Pray, see this done & in good order.

_Ten_. I shall. [_Exit_.

_Enter Don John below_.

_Gyr_. What makes _Don John_ here? Oh, now I remember: You come against the _Englishman_.

_Jo_. Yes, my Lord.

_Enter his Lady and a Gentlewoman above_.

_Mac_. Give me the Note there of the _English_ advertisements.

[_They all conferre_.

_Lady_. Here may we see & heare: poore _Englishman_! Sadnes! I cast on thee a noble pitty, A pitty mixt with sorrow that my Husband Has drawne him to this misery, to whom The 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 from _Don John_ This journey, for I vowd to see th'event How 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 our _Spanish_ soldiers 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 attendance And 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_. Sirra _Englishman_, 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 many _Spanyards_ Killd 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 in _England_ my 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; And _Don 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 to _Spanyards_!

_Mac_. Sirra, you _English_, what was the ship you came in?

_Pike_. The _Convertine_.

_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 at _Plymouth_ strong?

_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 before _Plymouth_: What strength is that of?

_Pike_. I doe not know.

_Gyr_. We doe, then.

_Alq_. Is _Plymouth_ a 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 tooke _Puntall_ seize _Cales_?

_Pike_. Our Generall Might easily have tane it, for he had Almost a thousand scaling ladders to sett up; And without mayme to's army he might loose A thousand men: but he was loath to robb An almes-house when he had a richer market To 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, to _Lisbon_, 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 prove Such hens as are your _English_, when next yeare They 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 our _Spanish_ pulletts?

_Pike_. What heart have I to fight when tis beaten flatt To earth with sad afflictions? can a prisoner Glory in playing the Fencer? my life's at stake Allready; can I putt it in for more? Our army was some 14000 men Of which more than 12000 had spirits so high Mine never shall come neere them: would some of them Were here to feed your expectations! Yet, silly as I am, having faire pardon From all your Graces and your Greatnesses, Ile try if I have strength in this chayned arme To breake a rapier.

_Mac_. Knock off all his gyves; And he that has a stomacke for _Spaines_ honour To combate with this _Englishman_, appeare.

_Pike_. May he be never calld an _Englishman_ That 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 done _Tiago_.

_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 a _Devonshire_ hugg, 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!