The Spanish Tragedie. Thomas Kyd
And heauen it-selfe was frighted with the sound.
Our battels both were pitcht in squadron forme,
Each corner strongly fenst with wings of shot;
But, ere we ioyned and came to push of pike,
I brought a squadron of our readiest shot
From out our rearward to begin the fight;
They brought another wing to incounter vs;
Meane-while our ordinance plaid on either side,
And captaines stroue to haue their valours tride.
Don Pedro, their chiefe horsemens corlonell,
Did with his cornet brauely make attempt
To break our order of our battell rankes;
But Don Rogero, worthy man of warre,
Marcht forth against him with our musketiers
And stopt the mallice of his fell approach.
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 lowd and with a swelling tide,
It beats vpon the rampiers of huge rocks,
And gapes to swallow neighbor-bounding lands.
Now, while Bellona rageth heere and there,
Thick stormes of bullets ran like winters haile,
And shiuered launces darke the troubled aire;
Pede pes & cuspide cuspis,
Arma sonant armis vir petiturque viro;
On euery side drop captaines to the ground,
And souldiers, some ill-maimde, some slaine outright:
Heere falls a body sundred from his head;
There legs and armes lye bleeding on the grasse,
Mingled with weapons and vnboweled steeds,
That scattering ouer-spread the purple plaine.
In all this turmoyle, three long hovres and more
The victory to neither part inclinde,
Till Don Andrea with his braue lanciers
In their maine battell made so great a breach
That, halfe dismaid, 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-arms, but weake to Balthazar.
Yet, while the prince, insulting ouer him,
Breathd out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproch,
Friendship and hardie valour ioyned in one
Prickt forth Horatio, our knight-marshals sonne,
To challenge forth that prince in single fight.
Not long betweene these twain the fight indurde,
But straight the prince was beaten from his horse
And forcst to yeeld him prisoner to his foe.
When he was taken, all the rest fled,
And our carbines pursued them to death,
Till, Phoebus waning to the western deepe,
Our trumpeters were chargd to sound retreat.
KING. Thanks, good l[ord] general, for these good newes!
And, for some argument of more to come,
Take this and weare it for thy soueraignes sake.
Giue him his chaine.
But tell me now: hast thou confirmed a peace?
GEN. No peace, my liege, but peace conditionall,
That, if with homage tribute be well paid,
The fury of your forces wilbe staide.
And to this peace their viceroy hath subscribde,
Giue the K[ING] a paper.
And made a solemne vow that during life
His tribute shalbe truely paid to Spaine.
KING. These words, these deeds become thy person wel.
But now, knight-marhsall, frolike with thy king,
For tis thy sonne that winnes this battels prize.
HIERO. Long may he liue to serue my soueraigne liege!
And soone decay unless he serue my liege!
A [trumpet] a-farre off.
KING. Nor thou nor he shall dye without reward.
What meanes this warning of this trumpets sound?
GEN. This tels me that your Graces men of warre,
Such as warres fortune hath reseru'd from death,
Come marching on towards your royall seate,
To show themselues before your Maiestie;
For so gaue I in charge at my depart.
Whereby by demonstration shall appeare
That all, except three hundred or few more,
Are safe returnd and by their foes inricht.
The armie enters, BALTHAZAR betweene LORENZO
and HORATIO, captiue.
KING. A gladsome sight! I long to see them heere.
They enter and passe 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' arme as partner of the prize?
HIERO. That was my sonne, my gracious soueraigne;
Of whome 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 ouercloying 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.
[Exit a MESSENGER.]
Hieoronimo, it greatly pleaseth vs
That in our victorie thou haue a share
By vertue of thy worthy sonnes exploit.
Enter againe.
Bring hether the young prince of Portingale!
The rest martch on, but, ere they be dismist,
We will bestow on euery soldier
Two duckets, and on euery leader ten,
That they may know our largesse welcomes them.
Exeunt all [the army] but BAL[THAZAR],
LOR[ENZO], and HOR[ATIO].
[KING.] Welcome, Don Balthazar! Welcome nephew!
And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too!
Young prince, although thy fathers hard misdeedes
In keeping backe the tribute that he owes