The Spanish Tragedie.
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' arme as partner of the prize?
Held him by th' arme as partner of the prize?
Hiero. That was my Sonne, my gracious Soueraigne;
Of whom, though from his tender infancie,
My louing thoughts did neuer hope but well:
He neuer pleasd his fathers eyes till now,
Nor fild my hart with ouer cloying ioyes.
Of whom, though from his tender infancie,
My louing thoughts did neuer hope but well:
He neuer pleasd his fathers eyes till now,
Nor fild my hart with ouer cloying ioyes.
King. Goe, let them march once more about these walles,
That staying them, we may conferre and talke
With our braue prisoner and his double Guard.
Hieoronimo, it greatly pleaseth vs,
That in our victorie thou haue a share,
Enter againe.By vertue of thy worthy Sonnes exploit.
Bring hither the young Prince of Portingale!
The rest march on: but ere they be dismist,
We will bestow on euery soldier two Duckets,
And on euery Leader ten, that they may know
Our larges welcomes them.
Exeunt all but Bal.Lor.Hor.
Welcome, Don Balthazar, welcome Nephew,
And thou Horatio thou art welcome too:
Yong prince, althought thy fathers hard misdeedes,
In keeping backe the tribute that he owes,
Deserue but euill measure at our hands:
Yet shalt thou know that Spaine is honourable.
That staying them, we may conferre and talke
With our braue prisoner and his double Guard.
Hieoronimo, it greatly pleaseth vs,
That in our victorie thou haue a share,
Enter againe.By vertue of thy worthy Sonnes exploit.
Bring hither the young Prince of Portingale!
The rest march on: but ere they be dismist,
We will bestow on euery soldier two Duckets,
And on euery Leader ten, that they may know
Our larges welcomes them.
Exeunt all but Bal.Lor.Hor.
Welcome, Don Balthazar, welcome Nephew,
And thou Horatio thou art welcome too:
Yong prince, althought thy fathers hard misdeedes,
In keeping backe the tribute that he owes,
Deserue but euill measure at our hands:
Yet shalt thou know that Spaine is honourable.
Balt. The trespasse that my father made in peace,
Is now contrould by fortune of the warres:
And cardes once dealt, it boots not aske why so,
His men are slaine, a weakening to his Realme,
His colours ceazd, a blot vnto his name,
His sonne distrest, a corsiue to his heart,
These punishments may cleare his late offence.
Is now contrould by fortune of the warres:
And cardes once dealt, it boots not aske why so,
His men are slaine, a weakening to his Realme,
His colours ceazd, a blot vnto his name,
His sonne distrest, a corsiue to his heart,
These punishments may cleare his late offence.
King. I Balthazar, if he obserues this truce,
Our peace will grow the stronger for these warres:
Meane while liue thou as though not in libertie,
Our peace will grow the stronger for these warres:
Meane while liue thou as though not in libertie,
Yet
