JER. Thy lance, Lorenzo! now, by my beard, you lie. HOR. Well, my lord, To you a while I tender my whole prisoner. LOR. Horatio, You tender me part of mine own, you know. HOR. Well, peace; with my blood dispense, Until my liege shall end the difference. JER. Lorenzo, thou dost boast of base renown; Why, I could whip all these, were their hose down. HOR. Speak, prince, to whether dost thou yield? BAL. The vanquished yields to both, to you [the] first. HOR. O abject prince! what, dost thou yield to two? JER. Content thee, boy; thou shalt sustain no wrong. I’ll to the king before, and let him know The sum of victory and his overthrow. [_Exit_ JERONIMO. LOR. Andrea slain! thanks to the stars above. I’ll choose my sister out her second love. [_Exeunt_ LORENZO _and_ BALTHEZAR. HOR. Come, noble rib of honour, valiant carcase! I loved thee so entirely, when thou breathedst, That I could die, were’t but to bleed with thee, And wish me wounds even for society. Heaven and this arm once say’d thee from thy foe, When his all-wrathful sword did basely point At the rich circle of thy labouring heart, Thou grovelling under indignation Of sword and ruth. O, then stepp’d heaven and I Between the stroke, but now alack must die. Since so the powers above have writ it down In marble leaves, that death is mortal crown, Come then, my friend, in purple I will bear Thee to my private tent, and then prepare An[312] honour’d funeral for thy melting corse. [_He takes his scarf and ties it about his arm._ This scarf I’ll wear in memory of our souls And of our mutual loves; here, here, I’ll wind it; And full as often as I think on thee, I’ll kiss this little ensign, this soft banner, Smear’d with foes’ blood, all for the master’s honour. Alas! I pity Bell’-Imperia’s eyes, Just at this instant, her heart sinks and dies. [_Exit_ HORATIO _carrying_ ANDREA _on his back._ _Enter_ JERONIMO _solus._ JER. My boy adds treble comfort to my age; His share is greatest in the victory. The Portugals are slain, and put to flight By Spaniards’ force, most by Horatio’s might. I’ll to the Spanish tents to see my son, Give him my blessing, and then all is done. _Enter two dragging of ensigns; then the funeral of_ ANDREA: _next_ HORATIO _and_ LORENZO, _leading Prince_ BALTHEZAR _captive; then the_ LORD GENERAL, _with others, mourning. A great cry within_, Charon, a boat, a boat! _Then enter_ CHARON _and the ghost of_ ANDREA. HOR. O my lords, See, Don Andrea’s ghost salutes me! see, embraces me! LOR. It is your love that shapes this apprehension.