2. How then turnd the windes? Why did this beauteous face of love in us Put on so blacke a Visour of hate to them? 1. Oh, sir, doe but looke backe to Eighty Eight, That _Spanish_ glasse shall tell you, shew each wrinckle. _England_ that yeare was but a bit pickd out To be layd on their Kinges Trencher. Who were their Cookes? Marry, sir, his Grandees and great Dons of _Spaine_, A Navy was provided, a royall fleete, Infinite for the bravery of Admiralls, Viceadmirall [sic], Generalls, Colonells and Commanders, Soldiers, and all the warlike furniture Cost or experience or mans witt could muster For such a mayne designe. 2. Stay; Eighty Eight,-- Thirty eight yeares agoe: much about then Came I into the world.--Well, sir, this fleete? 1. Which made the Sea fish wonder what new kingdome Was building over theirs, beate downe the Billowes Before them to gett thither. 'Twas such a Monster In body, such a wonder in the eyes, And such a[14] thunder in the eares of Christendome That the Popes Holynes would needes be Godfather To this most mighty big limbd Child, and call it Th'Invincible Armado. 2. Thats to say A Fleete of Shipps not to be overcome By any power of man. 1. These were the Whales, These were the huge Levyathans of the Sea Which roaring came with wide and dreadfull Jawes To swallow up our Kingdom, Shipps & Nation. The fame of this Armado flew with Terrour Riding on Envyes wing; the preparation Was wayted on with wonder, and the approach Shewd the grim face of horrour: yet gainst all these Our Country and our Courages were armd. 2. _St. George_ for _England_! 1. And _St. George_ we cryde, Albeit, we heard, the _Spanish_ Inquisition Was aboord every ship with torture, torments, Whipps strung with wyre, and knives to cutt our throates. But from the armed winds an hoast brake forth Which tare their shipps and sav'd ours.--Thus I have read Two storyes to you; one, why _Spayne_ hates us, T'other why we love not them. 2. Oh, sir, I thank you. [_Exeunt_. SCENE 3. _Ent. Teniente, Don John, Henrico_. _Ten_. I ever feard some ill fate pointed at This Citty. _Jo_. Makes the fleete this way? _Hen_. _Buzzano_! _Ten_. I did dreame every night of't, and the Ravens With their unlucky throates never leave croaking Some danger to us all. _Hen_. Where's _Buzzano_? Villaine! _Jo_. Be not discomforted. _Ten_. Don _Fernando_, too, Hath cut our strength off, taken away our swords Should save our throates. I did preiudicate Too rashly of the _English_; now we may Yield up the Towne.--Sirra, get you up to th'highest _Enter Buzzano_. Turret, that lookes three leagues into the Sea, And tell us what you can discover there. _Buz_. Why, I can tell you ere I goe.