Jo. Don John, a knight of Spaine.

Pike.  A knight of Spaine! and I a Squire of Tavestock:  well, Don John, I am a little in hast & am unmannerly constreynd to leave your Castilian on foote, while my Devonshire worship shall teach your Spanish Jennett an English gallop.  A dios, signior.—­

    Enter 12 musketiers.

Oh what a tyde of fortunes spight am I
Now to swim through! beare up yet, Jovyall heart,
And while thou knowest heavenly mercy doe not start. 
Once more let me embrace you, signior.

1.  I say he is an Englishman:  lett’s shoote him.

2.  I say the other is a Spanyard & Don John; & we dare not shoote the one for feare of killing th’other.

Jo.  Oh hold and spare us both, for we are frends.

1.  But by your leave we will part your embraces:  so disarme, disarme.

Jo.  I thanke you, Countrymen; I hope you’le trust my honour with my armes.

1.  Yes, take them signior; but you will yeild the Englishman our prisoner?

Jo.  Yes, with a Villaines marke. [He woundes him.

1.  A villaines mark, indeed! wound a disarmed souldier!

Jo.  He triumphd in the odds he had of me,
And he shall know that from the Spanish race
Revenge, though nere so bloudy, is not base. 
Away with him
A prisoner into th’Citty!

Pike.  Where you please, Although your Law’s more merciles then Seas.

[Exeunt.

(SCENE 5.)

Enter Don Ferdinando, the Teniente, with
attendants; Bustamente brought in with a Guard.

Fer. Francisco Bustamente, late Captaine of the Castle, Stand forth accusd of Treason gainst his Maiesty.

Bust.  It is a language I not understand
And but that by the rule of loyalty
Unto my king and country I am made
Attendant to the Law, & in this honourd
Presence, the Governour & Teniente,
Under whose jurisdiction I hold place,
I would not beare nor heare it.

Fer.  I’de be glad
You could as easily acquitt your selfe
Of guilt as stand up in your owne defence;
But, Bustamente, when it doth appeare
To law & reason, on which law is grounded,
Your great offence in daring to betray
The Spanish honour unto Infamy,
In yeilding up the fort on such slight cause,
You can no lesse then yeild yourselfe most guilty.

Bust.  Farre be it from your thought, my honourd Lord,
To wrest the hazardous fortune of the warre
Into the bloudyer censure of the Law. 
Was it my fault that in the first assault
The Canoniers were slayne, whereby our strength,
Our mayne offensive strength, was quite defeated
And our defensive part so much enfeebled
That possibility to subsist was lost,
Or by resistance to preserve one life? 
While there was sparke of hope I did maintayne
The fight with fiery resolution
And (give me leave to speake it) like a Sodier.