KING. Say, slave, how came this accurs’d evil? LAZ. Faith, by myself, my short sword, and the devil. To tell you all without a tedious tongue, I’ll cut them down, my words shall not hang[305] long. That hapless bleeding lord Alcario, Which this hand slew, pox on’t, was a huge doater On Bell’-Imperia’s beauty, who replied In scorn, and his hot suit denied; For her affections were all firmly planted In Don Andrea’s bosom; yet, unwise, He still pursued it with blind lover’s eyes. Then hired he me with gold--O fate, thou elf! To kill Andrea, which here killed himself; For, not content to stay the time of murder, He took Andrea’s shape unknown to me, And in all parts disguised, as there you see, Intending, as it seemed by that sly shift, To steal away her troth; short tale to tell, I took him for Andrea--down he fell. KING. O impious deed, To make the heir of honour melt and bleed! Bear him away to execution. LAZ. Nay, lord Lorenzo, where’s the pardon? ’sfoot, I’ll peach else. [_Aside._ LOR. Peace, Lazarotto, I’ll get it of the king. [_Aside._ LAZ. Do it quickly then, or I’ll spread villainy. [_Aside._ LOR. My lord, he is the most notorious rogue, That ever breath’d, [_In his ear._ KING. Away with him. LOR. Your highness may do well to bar his speech, ’Tis able to infect a virtuous ear. KING. Away with him, I will not hear him speak. LAZ. My lord Lorenzo is a---- [_They stop his mouth, and bear him in._ JER. Is not this a monstrous courtier? HOR. He is the court-toad, father. KING. Tribute denied us? ha! AND. It is, my liege, and that with no mean words: He will redeem his honour lost with swords. KING. So daring! ha! so peremptory! Can you remember the words he spake? AND. Word for word, my gracious sovereign, And these they were--thus much--return to Spain: Say, that our settled judgment hath advised us What tribute is, how poor that monarch shows Who for his throne a yearly pension owes; And what our predecessors lost to Spain, We have fresh spirits that can renew it again. KING. Ha! so peremptory, daring, stout! AND. Then, my liege, According to your gracious dread command, I bad defiance with a vengeful hand. SPAIN. He entertained it? AND. Aye, and returned it with menacing brows; Prince Balthezar his son Grew violent, and wish’d the fight begun. _Enter_ LORENZO. LOR. So, so, I have sent my slave to hell; Though he blab there, the devils will not tell. _A Tucket within._[306] SPAIN. How now! what means this trumpet’s sound? _Enter a Messenger._ MES. My liege, the Portugals Are up in arms, glittering in steel.