Act 1 — [Scene II.][728]

King. Now say, lord General, how fares our camp? Gen. All well, my sovereign liege, except some few That are deceas’d by fortune of the war. King. But what portends thy cheerful countenance, And posting to our presence thus in haste?5 Speak, man, hath fortune given us victory? Gen. Victory, my liege, and that with little loss. King. Our Portingals will pay us tribute then? Gen. Tribute and wonted homage therewithal. King. Then bless’d be heaven and guider of the heavens,10 From whose fair influence such justice flows. Cast. O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat aether, Et conjuratae curvato poplite gentes Succumbunt: recti soror est victoria juris.[729] King. Thanks to my loving brother of Castile.15 But, General, unfold in brief discourse Your form of battle and your war’s success, That, adding all the pleasure of thy news Unto the height of former happiness, With deeper wage and greater dignity20 We may reward thy blissful chivalry. Gen. Where Spain and Portingale do jointly knit Their frontiers, leaning on each other’s bound, There met our armies in their proud array; Both furnish’d well, both full of hope and fear,25 Both menacing alike with daring shows, Both vaunting sundry colours of device, Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums, and fifes, Both raising dreadful clamours to the sky, That valleys, hills, and rivers made rebound,30 And heav’n itself was frighted with the sound. Our battles both were pitch’d in squadron form, Each corner strongly fenc’d with wings of shot; But ere we join’d and came to push of pike, I brought a squadron of our readiest shot35 From out our rearward to begin the fight: They brought another wing t’ encounter us. Meanwhile, our ordnance play’d on either side, And captains strove to have their valours tried. Don Pedro, their chief horsemen’s colonel,40 Did with his cornet[730] bravely make attempt To break the order of our battle ranks: But Don Rogero, worthy man of war, March’d forth against him with our musketeers, And stopp’d the malice of his fell approach.45 While they maintain hot skirmish to and fro, Both battles join, and fall to handy-blows, Their violent shot resembling th’ ocean’s rage, When, roaring loud, and with a swelling tide, It beats upon the rampiers of huge rocks,50 And gapes to swallow neighbour-bounding lands. Now, while Bellona rageth here and there, Thick storms of bullets ran like winter’s hail, And shivered lances dark the troubled air. Pede pes et cuspide cuspis;55 Arma sonant armis, vir petiturque viro.[731] On every side drop captains to the ground, And soldiers, some ill-maim’d, some slain outright: Here falls a body sund’red from his head, There legs and arms lie bleeding on the grass,60 Mingled with weapons and unbowell’d steeds, That scattering overspread the purple plain. In all this turmoil, three long hours and more, The victory to neither part inclin’d; Till Don Andrea, with his brave lanciers,65 In their main battle made so great a breach, That, half dismay’d, the multitude retir’d: But Balthazar, the Portingals’ young prince, Brought rescue, and encourag’d them to stay. Here-hence the fight was eagerly renew’d,70 And in that conflict was Andrea slain: Brave man at arms, but weak to Balthazar. Yet while the prince, insulting over him, Breath’d out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproach, Friendship and hardy valour join’d in one75 Prick’d forth Horatio, our knight marshal’s son, To challenge forth that prince in single fight. Not long between these twain the fight endur’d, But straight the prince was beaten from his horse, And forc’d to yield him prisoner to his foe.80 When he was taken, all the rest they fled, And our carbines pursu’d them to the death, Till, Phoebus waving[732] to the western deep, Our trumpeters were charg’d to sound retreat. King. Thanks, good lord General, for these good news;85 And for some argument of more to come, Take this and wear it for thy sovereign’s sake. Gives him his chain. But tell me now, hast thou confirm’d a peace? Gen. No peace, my liege, but peace conditional, That if with homage tribute be well paid,90 The fury of your forces will be stay’d: And to this peace their viceroy hath subscrib’d, Gives the King a paper. And made a solemn vow that, during life, His tribute shall be truly paid to Spain. King. These words, these deeds, become thy person well.95 But now, knight marshal, frolic with thy king, For ’tis thy son that wins this battle’s prize. Hier. Long may he live to serve my sovereign liege, And soon decay, unless he serve my liege. King. Nor thou, nor he, shall die without reward.100 A tucket[733] afar off. What means this warning of this trumpet’s sound? Gen. This tells me that your grace’s men of war, Such as war’s fortune hath reserv’d from death, Come marching on towards your royal seat, To show themselves before your majesty;105 For so I gave in charge at my depart. Whereby by demonstration shall appear That all, except three hundred or few more, Are safe return’d, and by their foes enrich’d.

King. A gladsome sight! I long to see them here. 110 They enter and pass by. Was that the warlike prince of Portingale, That by our nephew was in triumph led? Gen. It was, my liege, the prince of Portingale. King. But what was he that on the other side Held him by th’ arm, as partner of the prize?115 Hier. That was my son, my gracious sovereign; Of whom though from his tender infancy My loving thoughts did never hope but well, He never pleas’d his father’s eyes till now, Nor fill’d my heart with over-cloying joys.120 King. Go, let them march once more about these walls, That, staying them, we may confer and talk With our brave prisoner and his double guard. [Exit a messenger.] Hieronimo, it greatly pleaseth us That in our victory thou have a share,125 By virtue of thy worthy son’s exploit. Enter again. Bring hither the young prince of Portingale: The rest march on; but, ere they be dismiss’d, We will bestow on every soldier Two ducats and on every leader ten,130 That they may know our largess welcomes them. Exeunt all but [the King], Balthazar, Lorenzo and Horatio. Welcome, Don Balthazar! welcome, nephew! And then, Horatio, thou art welcome too. Young prince, although thy father’s hard misdeeds, In keeping back the tribute that he owes,135 Deserve but evil measure at our hands, Yet shalt thou know that Spain is honourable. Bal. The trespass that my father made in peace Is now controll’d[734] by fortune of the wars; And cards once dealt, it boots not ask why so.140 His men are slain, a weakening to his realm; His colours seiz’d, a blot unto his name, His son distress’d, a cor’sive[735] to his heart: These punishments may clear his late offence. King. Ay, Balthazar, if he observe this truce,145 Our peace will grow the stronger for these wars. Meanwhile live thou, though not in liberty, Yet free from bearing any servile yoke; For in our hearing thy deserts were great, And in our sight thyself art gracious.150 Bal. And I shall study to deserve this grace. King. But tell me—for their holding makes me doubt— To which of these twain art thou prisoner? Lor. To me, my liege. Hor. To me, my sovereign. Lor. This hand first took his courser by the reins.155 Hor. But first my lance did put him from his horse. Lor. I seiz’d his weapon, and enjoy’d it first. Hor. But first I forc’d him lay his weapons down. King. Let go his arm, upon our privilege. They let him go. Say, worthy prince, to whether did’st thou yield?160 Bal. To him in courtesy, to this perforce. He spake me fair, this other gave me strokes; He promis’d life, this other threat’ned death; He won my love, this other conquer’d me, And, truth to say, I yield myself to both.165 Hier. But that I know your grace for just and wise, And might seem partial in this difference, Enforc’d by nature and by law of arms My tongue should plead for young Horatio’s right. He hunted well that was a lion’s death,170 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?175 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 weapon and his horse:180 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,185 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 may befall desert, To him we yield the armour of the prince.190 How likes Don Balthazar 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 so.—195 Now let us hence to see our soldiers paid, And feast our prisoner as our friendly guest. Exeunt.