Man.  You are too insolent. 
And those too many excellencies, that feed
Your pride, turn to a Pleurisie, and kill
That which should nourish vertue; dare you think
All blessings are confer’d on you alone? 
Y’are grosly cousen’d; there’s no good in you,
Which others have not:  are you a Scholar? so
Are many, and as knowing:  are you valiant? 
Waste not that courage then in braules, but spend it
In the Wars, in service of your King and Country.

Dua.  Yes, so I might be General, no man lives That’s worthy to command me.

Man.  Sir, in Lisbon
I am:  and you shall know it; every hour
I am troubled with complaints of your behaviour
From men of all conditions, and all sexes. 
And my authority, which you presume
Will bear you out, in that you are my Nephew,
No longer shall protect you, for I vow
Though all that’s past I pardon, I will punish
The next fault with as much severity
As if you were a stranger, rest assur’d on’t.

Gui.  And by that love you should bear, or that duty
You owe a Mother, once more I command you
To cast this haughtiness off; which if you do,
All that is mine, is yours, if not, expect
My prayers, and vows, for your conversion only,
But never means nor favour. [Ex.  Manuel and Guiomar.

Dua.  I am Tutor’d
As if I were a child still, the base Peasants
That fear, and envy my great worth, have done this;
But I will find them out, I will o’boord
Get my disguise; I have too long been idle,
Nor will I curb my spirit, I was born free,
And will pursue the course best liketh me. [Exeunt.

Enter Leopold, Sailers, and Zenocia.

Leop.  Divide the spoil amongst you, this fair Captive I only challenge for my self.

Sail.  You have won her
And well deserve her:  twenty years I have liv’d
A Burgess of the Sea, and have been present
At many a desperate fight, but never saw
So small a Bark with such incredible valour
So long defended, and against such odds,
And by two men scarce arm’d too.

Leop.  ’Twas a wonder. 
And yet the courage they exprest being taken,
And their contempt of death wan more upon me
Than all they did, when they were free:  me thinks
I see them yet when they were brought aboard us,
Disarm’d and ready to be put in fetters
How on the suddain, as if they had sworn
Never to taste the bread of servitude,
Both snatching up their swords, and from this Virgin,
Taking a farewel only with their eyes,
They leapt into the Sea.

Sail.  Indeed ’twas rare.

Leop.  It wrought so much on me, that but I fear’d
The great ship that pursued us, our own safety
Hindring my charitable purpose to ’em,
I would have took ’em up, and with their lives
They should have had their liberties.