The Spanish Tragedie.
Marcht foorth against him with our Musketiers,
And stopt the malice of his fell approch:
While they maintaine hot skirmish too and fro,
Both Battailes ioyne and fall to handie blowes;
Their violent Shot resembling th' Oceans rage,
When, roaring loude, and with a swelling tyde,
It beates vpon the rampiers of huge Rockes,
And gapes to swallow neighbour bounding landes:
Now while Bellona rageth heere and there,
Thicke stormes of Bullets ran like Winters hayle,
And shiuered Launces, darkt the troubled ayre.
Pede pes & cuspide cuspis,
Auni sonant annis, vir petiturque viro.
On euery side drop Captaines to the ground,
And Souldiers lie maimde, some slaine outright:
Heere falles a body sundered from his head,
There legges and armes lie bleeding on the grasse,
Mingled with weapons and vnbowed steedes,
That scattering, ouer spread the purple plaine.
In all this turmoyle three long houres and more,
The victorie to neither part inclinde,
Till Don Andrea with his braue Launciers,
In their maine Battell made so great a breach,
That halfe dismayde, the multitude retirde:
But Balthazar the Portingales young Prince,
Brought rescue, and encouragde them to stay.
Heere-hence the fight was eagerly renewd,
And in that conflict was Andrea slaine,
Braue man at armes, but weake to Balthazar,
Yet while the Prince, insulting ouer him,
Breath'd out proud vauntes, sounding to our reproch,
Friendship and hardie valour ioyned in one,
Prickt foorth Horatio, our Knight-marshals sonne,
To challenge foorth that Prince to single fight:
Not long betweene these twaine the fight indurde,
But straight the Prince was beaten from his Horse,
And forcst to yeeld him prisoner to his foe.
And stopt the malice of his fell approch:
While they maintaine hot skirmish too and fro,
Both Battailes ioyne and fall to handie blowes;
Their violent Shot resembling th' Oceans rage,
When, roaring loude, and with a swelling tyde,
It beates vpon the rampiers of huge Rockes,
And gapes to swallow neighbour bounding landes:
Now while Bellona rageth heere and there,
Thicke stormes of Bullets ran like Winters hayle,
And shiuered Launces, darkt the troubled ayre.
Pede pes & cuspide cuspis,
Auni sonant annis, vir petiturque viro.
On euery side drop Captaines to the ground,
And Souldiers lie maimde, some slaine outright:
Heere falles a body sundered from his head,
There legges and armes lie bleeding on the grasse,
Mingled with weapons and vnbowed steedes,
That scattering, ouer spread the purple plaine.
In all this turmoyle three long houres and more,
The victorie to neither part inclinde,
Till Don Andrea with his braue Launciers,
In their maine Battell made so great a breach,
That halfe dismayde, the multitude retirde:
But Balthazar the Portingales young Prince,
Brought rescue, and encouragde them to stay.
Heere-hence the fight was eagerly renewd,
And in that conflict was Andrea slaine,
Braue man at armes, but weake to Balthazar,
Yet while the Prince, insulting ouer him,
Breath'd out proud vauntes, sounding to our reproch,
Friendship and hardie valour ioyned in one,
Prickt foorth Horatio, our Knight-marshals sonne,
To challenge foorth that Prince to single fight:
Not long betweene these twaine the fight indurde,
But straight the Prince was beaten from his Horse,
And forcst to yeeld him prisoner to his foe.
When
