_Pike_. Yes, very strong. _Mac_. What Ordnance in't? _Pike_. 50 Peeces. _Gyr_. Oh fye, doe not belye your country; there's not so many. _Alq_. How many soldiers keepe you in that fort? _Pike_. 200. _Mac_. Much about such a number.--There is a little iland before _Plymouth_: What strength is that of? _Pike_. I doe not know. _Gyr_. We doe, then. _Alq_. Is _Plymouth_ a walld Towne? _Pike_. Yes, it is walld. _Mac_. And a good wall? _Pike_. A very good strong wall. _Gyr_. True tis a good strong wall, and built so high One with a leape staffe may leape over it. _Mac_. Why did not your good navy, being in such bravery, As it tooke _Puntall_ seize _Cales_? _Pike_. Our Generall Might easily have tane it, for he had Almost a thousand scaling ladders to sett up; And without mayme to's army he might loose A thousand men: but he was loath to robb An almes-house when he had a richer market To buy a conquest in. _Mac_. What was that market? _Pike_. _Genoa or Lisbon_: wherefore should we venture Our lives to catch the wind, or to gett knockes And nothing else. [_They consult_. _Mac_. A poast with speed, to _Lisbon_, And see't well mand. _Ten_. One shalbe sent, my Lord. [_Exit. The soldiers laugh_. _Alq_. How now, why is this laughter? _Fer_. One of the soldiers, being merry among themselves, is somewhat bold with th'_English_, and sayes th'are dainty Hennes. _All_. [_Alq_.?] Hens! ha, ha, ha! _Mac_. Sirra, view well these soldiers, And freely telle us, thinke you these will prove Such hens as are your _English_, when next yeare They land in your owne Country. _Pike_. I thinke they will not, My lord, prove hens, but somewhat neere to hens. _Mac_. How mean'st thou? _Pike_. Let my speech breed no offence: I thinke they would prove pulletts. _Gyr_. Dar'st thou fight With any one of these our _Spanish_ pulletts? _Pike_. What heart have I to fight when tis beaten flatt To earth with sad afflictions? can a prisoner Glory in playing the Fencer? my life's at stake Allready; can I putt it in for more? Our army was some 14000 men Of which more than 12000 had spirits so high Mine never shall come neere them: would some of them Were here to feed your expectations! Yet, silly as I am, having faire pardon From all your Graces and your Greatnesses, Ile try if I have strength in this chayned arme To breake a rapier. _Mac_. Knock off all his gyves; And he that has a stomacke for _Spaines_ honour To combate with this _Englishman_, appeare. _Pike_. May he be never calld an _Englishman_ That dares not looke a divell in the face, [_One stepps forth_. Come he in face of man, come how he can. _Mac_. Your name? _Tia_. _Tiago_. _All_. Well done _Tiago_. _Mac_. Let drums beate all the time they fight. _Lady_. I pray for thee. _Gent_. And I.