FEALTY. Then know, Castilian cavalieros, this: The owners of these emblems are three lords, Those three that now are viewing of your shields: Of London, our chief city, are they lords; Policy, Pomp, and Pleasure be their names; And they, in honour of their mistresses, Love, Lucre, Conscience, London ladies three, Emblazoned these scutcheons, challenging Who durst compare or challenge one of them. And Policy a tortoise hath impress'd, Encompass'd with her shell, her native walls, And _Providens securus_ is his word: His page is Wit, his mistress Lady Love. Pomp in his shield a lily hath portray'd, As paragon of beauty and boon-grace: _Glorie sans peere_ his word, and true it is; With London's Pomp Castile cannot compare: His page is Wealth, his mistress Lucre hight. Pleasure, the dainty of that famous town, A falcon hath emblazon'd, soaring high, To show the pitch that London's Pleasure flies: His word _Pour temps_, yet never stops to train, But unto Conscience, chosen for his dear: His page is Will; and thus th'effect you hear. S. PRIDE. Buena, buena, per los Lutheranos Ingleses. FEALTY. Mala, mala, per Catholicos Castellanos. POLICY. Loqueris Anglice? SHEALTY. Maxime, Domine. POLICY. Agendum: go to, then; and declare Thy lords their shields, their pages and their purpose. Speak, man; fear not: though Spain use messengers ill, 'Tis England's guise to entreat them courteously. SHEALTY. Three cavalieros Castilianos here, Without compeers in compass of this world, Are come to conquer, as full well they shall, This molehill isle, that little England hight, With London, that proud paltry market-town, And take those dames, Love, Lucre, Conscience, Prisoners, to use or force, as pleaseth them. The first (now quake) is Spanish Majesty, That for his impress gives Queen Juno's bird, Whose train is spang'd with Argus' hundred eyes; The Queen of Gods scorns not to grace him so: His word is _Nonpareil_, none his like; Yet is his page or henchman Modesty, Lucre the lady that shall be his prize: And in his pendant on his lance's point _Sur le Ciel_ his word, Above the heavens. POLICY. Whilome, indeed, above the heavens he was, Could he have kept him in that blessed state. From thence for pride he fell to pit of pain; And is he now become the pride of Spain? And to his page, not Modesty, but Shame. Well, on, the rest---- SHEALTY. Don Honour is the next grand peer of Spain, Whose impress is a courser saliant, Of colour sable, darkening air and earth, Pressing the globe with his disdainful foot, And sallying to aspire to rolling skies: _Non sufficit orbis_ is his haughty word, The world sufficeth not high Honour's thoughts; And on the pendant, fixed on his lance, A hand is catching at the sunny beams: _Et gloriam Phoebi_, and the sun's bright coach Honour would guide, if he might have his will. His page is Action, tempering still with state. POLICY. Himself Ambition, whom the heavens do hate. SHEALTY. And Love the lady that he hopes to gain.