45 He hunted well, that was a lion's death;
Not he that in a garment wore his skin:
So hares may pull dead lions by the beard.
King. Content thee, marshal, thou shalt have
no wrong;

And, for thy sake, thy son shall want no right.
Will both abide the censure of my doom?

Lor. I crave no better than your grace awards.
Hor. Nor I, although I sit beside my right.
King. Then, by my judgment, thus your strife
shall end :

You both deserve, and both shall have reward.-
Nephew, thou took'st his weapons and his horse;
His weapons and his horse are thy reward.-
Horatio thou didst force him first to yield;
His ransom therefore is thy valour's fee;
Appoint the sum as you shall both agree.-
But, nephew, thou shalt have the prince in guard,
For thine estate best fitteth such a guest.
Horatio's house were small for all his train:
Yet in regard thy substance passeth his,
And that just guerdon 46 may befal desert,
To him we yield the armour of the prince.-
How likes Don Balthezar of this device?
Bal. Right well, my liege, if this proviso were,
That Don Horatio bear us company,
Whom I admire and love for chivalry.

King. Horatio, leave him not that loves thee

Yes, fortune may bereave me of my crown;
Here, take it.-Now let fortune do her worst;
She will not rob me of this sable weed.
O no, she envies none but pleasant things;
Such is the folly of despiteful chance!
Fortune is blind, and sees not my deserts;
So is she deaf, and hears not my laments:
And could she hear, yet is she wilful mad,
And therefore will not pity my distress.
Suppose that she could pity me; what then?
What help can be expected at her hands,
Whose foot is standing on a rolling stone,
And mind more mutable than fickle winds?
Why wail I then, where's hope of no redress?
O, yes! complaining makes my grief seem less.
My late ambition hath distained my faith;
My breach of faith occasioned bloody wars;
Those 52 bloody wars have spent my treasure;
And, with my treasure, my people's blood;

And, with their blood, my joy and best beloved,
My best beloved, my sweet, and only son.
O wherefore went I not to war myself?
The cause was mine, I might have died for both:
My years were mellow, his 53 but young and green;
My death were natural, but his was forced.
Alex. No doubt, my liege, but still the prince
survives.

Vice. Survives! aye, where? 54

Alex. In Spain; a prisoner, by mischance of war. Vice. Then they have slain him for his father's fault.

Alex. That were a breach to common law of

arms.

Vice. They reck no laws that meditate revenge. Alex. His ransom's worth will stay from foul

revenge.

Vice. No; if he lived, the news would soon be here.

Alex. Nay, evil news fly 55 faster still than good. Vice. Tell me no more of news, for he is dead. Vill. My sovereign, pardon the author of ill

news,

And I'll bewray the fortune of thy son.

Vice. Speak on, I'll guerdon thee, whate'er it be; Mine ear is ready to receive ill news; My heart grown hard 'gainst mischief's battery. Stand up, I say, and tell thy tale at large.

Vill. Then hear that 56 truth, which these mine eyes have seen.

When both the armies were in battle joined,
Don Baithezar, amidst the thickest troops,
To win renown, did wondrous feats of arms;
Amongst the rest I saw him, hand to hand,
In single fight with their lord general,
Till Alexandro (that here counterfeits
Under the colour of a duteous friend)
Discharged his pistol at the prince's back,
As though he would have slain their general;
But therewithal Don Balthezar fell down,
And when he fell, then we began to fly :
But, had he lived, the day had sure been ours.
Aler. O wicked forgery! O trait'rous miscreant!
Vice. Hold thou thy peace.-But now, Villup.
po, say,

Where then became the carcase of my son?

Vill. I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents. Vice. Aye, aye, my nightly dreams have told me this.

Thou false, unkind, unthankful, trait'rous beast!
Wherein bad Balthezar offended thee,
That thou should'st thus betray him to our foes?
Was't Spanish gold that bleared so thine eyes,
That thou could'st see no part of our deserts?
Perchance, because thou art Tersera's lord,
Thou had'st 57 some hope to wear this diadem,
If first my son, and then myself were slain;
But thy ambitious thought 58 shall break thy neck,
Aye, this was it that made thee spill his blood;

[He takes the Crown, and puts it on again. But I'll now 59 wear it, till thy blood be spilt. Alex. Vouchsafe, dread 60 sovereign, to hear me speak.

Vice. Away with him! his sight is second hell :Keep him, till we determine of his death. If Balthezar be dead, he shall not live.— Villuppo, follow us for thy reward.

[Exit Viceroy.

Vill. Thus have I, with an envious forged tale, Deceived the king, betrayed mine enemy, And hope for guerdon of my villainy.

Enter HORATIO and BELIMPERIA.

[Erit.

Bel. Signior Horatio, this is the place and hour Wherein. I must intreat thee to relate

61

The circumstance of Don Andrea's death;
Who, living, was my garland's sweetest 61 flower,
And in his death bath buried my delights.

Hor. For love of him, and service to yourself,
62 I nill refuse this heavy doleful charge;
Yet tears and sighs, I fear, will hinder me.
When both our armies were enjoined in 63 fight,
Your worthy cavalier amidst the thickest,
For glory's cause, still aiming at the fairest,
Was, at the last, by young Don Balthezar
Encountered hand to hand. Their fight was long;
Their hearts were great; their clamours menacing;
Their strength alike; their strokes both danger-

ous:

But wrathful Nemesis, that wicked power,
Envying at Andrea's praise and worth,
Cut short his life, to end his praise and worth.
She, she herself, disguised in armour's mask,
(As Pallas was before proud Pergamus)
Brought in a 64 fresh supply of halberdiers,
Which paunched his horse, and dinged 65 him to
the ground:

Then young Don Baltḥezar, with ruthless rage,

53 But his, 1623. 33.

55 Will fly, 1618. 23. 33. 58 Thoughts, 1618. 23. 33.

61 Chiefest, 1623. 33.

63 To, 1618. 23. 33.

Taking advantage of his foe's distress,
Did finish what his halberdiers begun,
And left not till Andrea's life was done.
Then, though too late, incensed with just remorse,
I, with my band, set forth against the prince,
And brought him prisoner from his halberdiers.
Bel. Would thou hadst slain him that so 66 slew
my love!-

But, then, was Don Andrea's carcase lost?

Hor. No, that was it for which I chiefly strove, Nor stept I back till I recovered him. I took him up, and wound him in mine arms, And welding 67 him unto my private tent, There laid him down, and dewed him with my

tears,

And sighed and sorrowed as became a friend :
But neither friendly sorrow, 68 sighs, nor tears,
Could win pale death from his usurped right.
Yet this I did, and less I could not do,
I saw him bonoured with due funeral:
69 This scarf I plucked from off his lifeless arm,
And wear it in remembrance of my friend.

Bel. I know the scarf, would he had kept it still!

For, had he lived, he would have kept it still,
And worn it for his Belimperia's sake;
For 'twas my favour at his last depart.

But now wear thou 70 it, both for him and me;
For, after him, thou hast deserved it best;
And, for thy kindness in his life and death,
Be sure, while Belimperia's life endures,
She will be Don Horatio's thankful friend.
Hor. And, madam, Don Horatio will not slack
Humbly to serve fair Belimperia.

But now,

if your good liking stand thereto, I'll crave your pardon to go seek the prince, For so the duke your father gave me charge. Bel. Aye, go, Horatio, leave me here alone, For solitude best fits my cheerless mood.

[Exit HORATIO. Yet, what avails to wail Andrea's death,

From whence Horatio proves my second love?
Had he not loved Andrea as he did,
He could not sit in Belimperia's thoughts.
But how can love find harbour in my breast,
Till I revenge the death of my beloved?
Yes, second love shall further my revenge:
I'll love Horatio, my Andrea's friend,

The more to spite the prince that wrought his end.

And where Don Balthezar, that slew my love,
Himself now pleads for favour at my hands,
He shall, in rigour of my just disdain,
Reap long repentance for his murderous deed;
For what was't else but murderous cowardice,
So many to oppress one valiant knight,
Without respect of honour in the fight?-
And here he comes that murdered my delight.
Enter LORENZO and BALTHEZAR.

Lor. Sister, what means this melancholy walk?
Bel. That, for a while, I wish no company.
Lor. But here the prince is come to visit you.
Bel. That argues, that he lives in 72 liberty.
Bal. No, madam, but in pleasing servitude.
Bel. Your prison, then, (belike) is your conceit?
Bal. Aye, by conceit my freedom is enthralled.
Bel. Then with conceit enlarge yourself again.
Bal. What if conceit have laid my heart to gage?
Bel. Pay that you borrowed, and recover it.
Bal. I die, if it return from whence it lies.
Bel. A heartless man, and live? 73 a miracle!
Bal. Aye, lady, love can work such miracles.
Lor. Tush, tush, my lord, let go these ambages,74
And in plain terms acquaint her with your love.
Bel. What boots complaint, when there's no
remedy?

Bal. Yes, to your gracious self must I complain, In whose fair answer lies my remedy; On whose perfection all my thoughts attend, On whose aspect mine eyes find beauty's bower; In whose translucent breast my heart is lodged.

Marston's Satires, Sat. 5:

p. 116:

68 Sorrowes, 1618. 23. 33.
70 Thou, omitted, 1618 23. 33.
72 At, 1618. 3. 33

74 Ambages-So, in Wily beguiled, 1606 :

VOL. I.

3 P

Bel. Alas, my lord, these are but words of course, And but device 75 to drive me from this place. [She going in, lets fall her Glove, which HoRATIO, coming out, takes up. Hor. Madam, your glove

Bel. Thanks, good Horatio; take it for thy pains.

Bal. Signior Horatio, stooped in happy time. Hor. I reaped more grace than I deserved or hoped.

Lor. My lord, be not dismayed for what is past.

You know that women oft are humorous: 76
These clouds will overblow with little wind;
Let me alone, I'll scatter them myself.
Meanwhile, let us devise to spend the time
77 In some delightful sports and revelling.
Hor. The king, my lords, 78 is coming hither
straight,

To feast the Portingale ambassador.
Things were in readiness before I came.

Bal. Then here it fits us to attend the king,
To welcome hither our ambassador,
And learn my father and my country's health.

Enter the Banquet, Trumpets, King, and Ambassador.

King. See, lord ambassador, how Spain intreats Their prisoner Balthezar, thy viceroy's son: We pleasure more in kindness than in wars. Amb. Sad is our king, and Portingale laments, Supposing that Don Balthezar is slain.

Bal. So am I slain by beauty's tyranny.You see, my lord, how Balthezar is slain, I frolick with the Duke of Castile's son, Wrapt every hour in pleasures of the court, And graced with favours of his majesty. King. Put off your greetings till our feast be

done:

Now come, and sit with us, and taste our cheer. [Sit to the Banquet.

Sit down, young prince, you are our second guest:
Brother, sit down; and, nephew, take your place;
Signior Horatio, wait thou upon our cup,
For well thou hast deserved to be honoured.
Now, lordlings, fall to; Spain is Portingale,
And Portingale is Spain; we both are friends;
Tribute is paid, and we enjoy our right.-
But where is old Hieronimo, our marshal?
He promised us, in honour of our guest,
79 To grace our banquet with some pompous jest.
Enter HIERONIMO with a Drum, three Knights,

each his 'scutcheon. Then he fetches three
Kings; they take their crowns and them cap-
tive.

Hieronimo, this mask contents my eye,
Although I sound not well the mystery.
Hier. The first armed knight, that hung his
'scutcheon up,

[He takes the 'scutcheon, and gives it to the
King.

Was English Robert, Earl of Gloucester,
Who, when King Stephen bore sway in Albion,
Arrived, with five and 80 twenty thousand men,
In Portingale; and, by success of war,
Enforced the king, then but a Saracen,
To bear the yoke of the English monarchy.

King. My lord of Portingale, by this you see, That which may comfort both your king and you, And make your late discomfort seem the less.— But say, Hieronimo, what was the next?

Hier. The second knight, that hung his 'scutcheon up, [He does as he did before. Was Edmund, Earl of Kent, in Albion, When English Richard wore the diadem: He came likewise and razed Lisbon walls, And took the king of Portingale in fight; For which, and other such-like service done, He after was created Duke of York.

King. This is another special argument,

75 Devised, 1618. 23. 33.

78 Lord, 1618. 23. 33.

80 Five and, omitted, 1623, 33.

That Portingale may deign to bear our yoke,
When it by little England hath been yoked.-
But now, Hieronimo, what were the last?
Hier. The third and last, not least in our ac-
count,
[Doing as he did before.
Was, as the rest, a valiant Englishman,
Brave John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster,
As by his 'scutcheon plainly may appear;
He, with a puissant army, came to Spain,
And took our King of Castile prisoner.

Amb. This is an argument for our viceroy,
That Spain may not insult for her success,
Since English warriors likewise conquered Spain,
And made them bow their knees to Albion.
King. Hieronimo, I drink to thee for this de-
vice,

Which hath pleased both the ambassador and me:

Pledge me, Hieronimo, if thou love the king.-
[Takes the Cup of HORATIO.

My lord, I fear we sit but over-long,
Unless our dainties were more delicate;
But welcome are you to the best we have.
Now let us in, that you 81 may be dispatched;
I think our council is already set.

[Exeunt. "Andrea. Come we for this from depth of under-ground,

To see him feast that gave me my death's wound? These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soul; Nothing but league, and love, and banqueting.

Revenge. Be still, Andrea; ere we go from hence, I'll turn their friendship into fell despight; Their love to mortal hate; their day to night; Their hope into despair; their peace to war; Their joys to pain; their bliss to misery."

Enter LORENZO and BALTHEZAR. Lor. My lord, though Belimperia seem thus

coy,

Let reason hold you in your wonted joy:
In time the savage bull sustains the yoke;
In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure;
In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak;
$2 In time the flint is pierced with softest shower;
And she, in time, will fall from her disdain,
And rue

83 the sufferance of your friendly pain.
Bal. No; she is wilder, and more hard withal,
Than beast, or bird, or tree, or stony wall:
But wherefore blot I Belimperia's name?
It is my fault, not she that merits blame.
My feature is not to content her sight;
My words are rude, and work her no delight:
The lines I send her are but harsh and ill,
Such as do drop from Pan and 84 Marsia's quill.
My presents are not of sufficient cost,
And being worthless, all my labour's lost.
$5 Yet might she love me for iny valiancy :
Aye, but that's slander'd by captivity.
Yet might she love me to content her sire:
Aye, but her reason masters 86 his desire.
Yet might she love me, as her brother's friend:
Aye, but her hopes aim at some other end.
Yet might she love me to up-rear her state :
Aye, but perhaps she $7 hopes some nobler mate.
Yet might she love me as her beauty's thrall:
Aye, but I fear she cannot love at all.

Lor. My Lord, for my sake, leave these extasies, And doubt not but we'll find some remedy. Some cause there is, that lets you not be loved;

First that must needs be known, and then removed. What if my sister love some other knight?

Bal. My summer's day will turn to winter's night. Lor. I have already found a stratagem, To sound the bottom of this doubtful theme. My lord, for once you shall be ruled by me; Hinder me not, whate'er you hear or see: By force, or fair means, will I cast about, To find the truth of all this question out. Ho, Pedringano!

Enter PEDRINGANO.

Ped. Segnior!

Lor. Vien que presto.

Ped. Hath your lordship any service to command me?

Lor. Aye, Pedringano, service of import;
And, not to spend the time in trifling words,
Thus stands the case: It is not long thou know'st,
Since I did shield thee from my father's wrath,
For thy conveyance in Andrea's love;

For which thou wert adjudged to banishment:
I stood betwixt thee and thy punishment.
And since thou know'st how I have favour'd thee,
Now to these favours will I add reward,
Not with fair words, but store of golden coin,
And lands and $8 living join'd with dignities,
If thou but satisfy my just demand:
Tell truth, and have me for thy lasting friend.
Ped. Whate'er it be your lordship shall demand,
My bounden duty bids me tell the truth,
If case 89 it lie in me to tell the truth.

Lor. Then, Pedringano, this is my demand: Whom loves my sister Belimperia?`