A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

English drama
This tells me, that your grace's men of war,
    Such as war's fortune hath reserv'd from death,
    Come marching on towards your royal seat,
    To show themselves before your majesty,
    For so I gave in[40] charge at my depart;
    Whereby by demonstration shall appear,
    That all, except three hundred or few more,
    Are safe return'd, and by their foes enrich'd.

       _The army enters._[41] BALTHAZAR, _between_ LORENZO _and
                         Horatio_, _captive_.

                                 KING.

    A gladsome sight! I long to see them here.

                                              [_They enter and pass by._

    Was that the warlike prince of Portingal,
    That by our nephew was in triumph led?

                                GENERAL.

    It was, my liege, the prince of Portingal.

                                 KING.

    But what was he, that on the other side
    Held him by th' arm, as partner of the prize?

                               HIERONIMO.

    That was my son, my gracious sovereign;
    Of whom, though from his tender infancy
    My loving thoughts did never hope but well,
    He never pleas'd his father's eyes till now,
    Nor fill'd my heart with over-cloying joys.

                                 KING.

    Go, let them march once more about these walls,
    That, staying them, we may confer and talk
    With our brave prisoner and his double guard.
    Hieronimo, it greatly pleaseth us
    That in our victory thou have a share,
    By virtue of thy worthy son's exploit.

                                                         [_Enter again._

    Bring hither the young prince of Portingal:
    The rest march on; but, ere they be dismiss'd,
    We will bestow on every soldier two ducats,
    And on every leader ten, that they may know
    Our largess welcomes them.

                               [_Exeunt all but_ BAL., LOR., _and_ HOR.

    Welcome, Don Balthazar: welcome, nephew;
    And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too.
    Young prince, although thy father's hard misdeeds,
    In keeping back the tribute that he owes,
    Deserve but evil measure at our hands,
    Yet shalt thou know that Spain is honourable.

                               BALTHAZAR.

    The trespass, that my father made in peace,
    Is now controll'd by fortune of the wars;
    And cards once dealt, it boots not ask why so:
    His men are slain, a weak'ning to his[42] realm;
    His colours seiz'd, a blot unto his name;
    His son distress'd, a cor'sive to his heart:
    These punishments may clear his late offence.

                                 KING.

    Ay, Balthazar, if he observe[43] this truce,
    Our peace will grow the stronger for these wars:
    Meanwhile live thou, though[44] not in liberty,
    Yet free[45] from bearing any servile yoke;
    For in our hearing thy deserts were great,
    And in our sight thyself art gracious.

                               BALTHAZAR.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

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