 | Dick of Devonshire |  |
Sce: 3.
Ent: fernando bareheaded, talking wt h ye Duke of Macada./ Duke Gyron, Medyna,Marquesse d'Alquevezzes, 2 gent: one wt h Pikes sword, wc h is laid on a table, Iaylor, Teniente, Clarke wt h paper
Mac:
Where's ye Teniente?
Clark.
ye Duke calls for you.
Ten:
here my Lord.
Mac:
Tis ye kings pleasure yt those fugitives
wc h basely left ye fort should not be honourd
wt h a iudiciall tryall; but prsently
(both those you have at home & these in Sherrys)
to dye by martiall law.
Ten:
my Lord Ile see it done.
Mac:
Dispatch the rest here.
Iay:
yes my Lord; Ile bring them
carefully together to end ye busines.
Gyr:
bring Bustamente in.
Exit Iaylor
Mac:
My Lords, here's Don fernando relates to me
two storyes full of wonder; one, of his Daughter,
fam'd for her vertues, faire Eleonora,
accusing Don Henrico, yongest sonne
to noble Pedro Gusman, of a rape;
another of ye same Henrico's, charging
his Elder brother Manuell wt h ye murther
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Gyr:
are all ye parties here?
Fer:
yes.
Gyr:
bring them in.
Exit Fernan:
Mac:
Bustamente; ye king, or master, looking wt h sharpe eyes
Ent: Iaylor Bustamente, Guard.
vpon yor Trayterous yeilding vp ye Fort
putts off yor Tryall here, you must abide
longer imprisonment.
Bust:
I have allready quitted
my selfe, my lord, of that wc h you call Treason,
wc h had in any here (he doing ye like)
bene a high point of honor.
Alq:
these braves cannot save you.
Gyr:
you must not be yor owne Iudge.
Mac:
you gave ye English
more glory by yor base ignoble rendring
that fort vp, then or Nation gott from them
in all or vndertakings.
Bust:
Heare me, my Lords.
Mac:
Sir, sir, w'have other Anviles; Bustamente
prpare yor selfe for Death.
Bust:
for all my service!
All:
Take him away.
Bust:
you are Lyons & I ye prey.
Exit wt h ye Iaylor.
Mac:
Wc h are Don Pedro's sons?
Fer:
these Two.
Ent: Fernando, Henrico, Manuell.
Mac:
wc h yongest?
Hen:
I, my Lord.
Ent: Iaylor.
Mac:
you charge this Gentleman, yor elder brother, wt h murther of yor father.
Hen:
wc h I can prove.
Mac:
& hither flyes a ravisht Ladyes voice
to charge you wt h a Rape; ye wronged Daughter
of this most noble Gentleman.
Hen:
lett them prove that.
Mac:
These Accusations & ye proofes shall meete
here face to face, in th'afternoone; meane time
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these gentlemen attended on by a strong guard.
Fer:
The wrongs done to my selfe waken me, my lord, to that.
Man:
I would yor Graces would heare me speake a litle.
All:
you shall have time.
Med:
Take them away,
& at their Tryall have ye Lady here.
Ex: Fer: Hen: Man: & Iaylor.
Gyr:
Where is ye Englishman?
Clark:
The Englishan.
Alq:
What doe you call him? Dick of Devonshire?
Medy:
Because he is a soldier, let him have
a soldiers honor; bring him from his prison
full in ye face of ye whole Towne of Sherrys
wt h Drums & musquetts.
Mac:
How many soldiers are in ye Towne?
Clark:
5000.
Medy:
let .200. march hither along wt h him as his guard.
where's the Teniente?
Ten:
Here my Lord.
Medy:
Pray see this done, & in good order.
Ten:
I shall.
Exit.
Gyr:
What makes Don Iohn here? oh, now I remember,
Ent: Don Iohn below
you come against the Englishman.
Io:
yes, my Lord.
Ent: his Lady & a gentle woman above.
Mac:
Give me ye Note there of ye English advertisemt s
They all conferre.
Lad:
Here may we see & heare, poore Englishman,
sadnes I cast on thee a noble pitty;
a pitty mixt wt h sorrow, that my Husband
has drawne him to this misery, to whom
ye soldier gave life, being at his mercy.
Gent:
Twas bravely done, no doubt he'le speed ye better for his mind.
Lad:
I visited him in prison; & did wt h much adoe win from Don Iohn
this Iourney; for I vowd to see th'event
how they will deale wt h him.
Gent:
I hope most fairely.
Ent: 2. Drums; Teniente, Divers musketts, fernando wt h Pike (wt hout band, an Iron about his necke, 2 Chaines manacling his wrists; a great Chaine at his heeles) Iaylor, 3. or 4 Halberts, A Barre sett out.
Clark:
Silence.
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you see how much or Spanish soldiers love you
to give this brave Attendance; though yor Nation
fought vs, & came to hunt vs to or deathes.
Pi:
My lords, this, wc h in shew, is brave Attendance,
& love to me, is ye worlds posture right;
where one mans falling downe setts vp another;
my sorrowes are their Triumphes; so in kings Courtes,
when Officers are thrust out of their roomes
others leape laughing in while they doe mourne.
I am at yor mercy.
Mac:
Sirra Englishman,
know you yt weapon? reach it him.
Pi:
yes, it was once mine,
& drawes teares from me to thinke how 'twas forcd from me.
Mac:
How many Spanyards killd you, wt h yt sword?
Pi:
Had I killd one this Barre had nere bene guilty of my pleading,
before such Princely Iudges; there stands ye man.
Gyr:
Don Iohn, sett he on you, or you on him?
Io:
He vpon me first.
Pi:
let me then be torne
into a Thousand pieces.
Lad:
my Husband speakes vntruth.
Alq:
Sett he on you first? more Coward you to suffer an Enemy be aforehand.
Pi:
Indeed in England my Countrymen are good at bidding stand,
but I was not now vpon a robbery, but a defence,
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I had him at my feete, sav'd him, & for my labour
was after basely hurt by him.
Fer:
This was examined by me, my Lords,
& Don Iohn thus accusd was much ashamd
of his vnmanly dealing.
Gyr:
He may be now soe.
Lad:
I blush for him my selfe.
Alq:
Disgrace to Spanyards.
Mac:
Sirra, you English, what was ye ship you came in?
P:
The Convertine.
Mac:
what Ordnance did she carry?
P:
40 peeces.
Gyr:
no sir, but 38, see here my Lord.
Alq:
right, no more then 38.
Mac:
yor fort at Plymouth strong?
Pi:
Yes, very strong.
Mac:
what Ordnance in't?
Pi:
50 Peeces.
Gyr:
Oh fye, doe not belye yor country; there's not so many.
Alq:
How many soldiers keepe you in that fort?
Pi:
.200.
Mac:
much about such a number. There is a little Iland before Plymouth,
what strength is that of?
Pi:
I doe not know.
Gyr:
We doe then.
Alq:
Is Plymouth a walld Towne?
Pi:
yes, it is walld.
Mac:
And a good wall?
P:
A very good strong wall.
Gyr:
True, tis a good strong wall, & built so high
one wt h a loape staffe may leape over it.
Mac:
Why did not yor great Navy, being in such bravery,
as it tooke Puntall, seize Cales?
Pi:
Our Generall
might easily have tane it, for he had
almost a Thousand scaling [scaling] ladders to sett vp,
&, wt hout mayme to's army, he might loose
a Thousand men; but he was loath to robb
an Almeshouse when he had a richer market
to buy a Conquest in.
Mac:
what was yt market?
P:
Genoa, or Lisbon; wherefore should we venture
they consult.
our lives to catch ye wind? or to gett knockes
& nothing else?
Mac:
A poast wt h speed to Lisbon, & see't well mand.
Ten:
One shalbe sent my Lord. Exit.
The soldiers laugh.
Alq:
How now? why is this laughter?
Fer:
One of ye soldiers, being merry among them selves
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All:
Hens? ha, ha, ha;
Mac:
Sirra, view well these soldiers,
& freely tells vs, thinke you these will prove
such hens as are yor English! when ye next yeare
they land in yor owne Country.
Pi:
I thinke they will not,
my lord, prove hens, but somewhat neere to hens.
Mac:
How mean'st thou?
Pi:
Let my speech breed no offence,
I thinke they would prove pulletts.
Gyr:
Dar'st thou fight
wt h any one of these or Spanish pulletts?
Pi:
What heart have I to fight, when tis beaten flatt
to earth wt h sad afflictions? can a prisoner
glory in playing ye ffencer? my life's at stake
allready, can I putt it in for more?
Our Army was. some .14000. men,
of wc h, more then .12000. had spirits so high
mine never shall come neere them; would some of them
were here to feed yor expectations:
Yet, silly as I am, having faire pardon
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Ile try if I have strength in this chaynd arme
to breake a rapier.
Mac:
knock off all his gyves,
and he that has a stomacke for Spaines honor
to combate wt h this English man, appeare.
Pi:
may he be never calld an Englishman
that dares not looke a divell in ye face,
One stepps forth,
come he in shape of man, come how he can.
Mac:
yor name?
Tia:
Tiago.
All:
well done Tiago.
Mac:
let Drums beate all ye time they fight.
Lad:
I pray for thee.
Gent:
And I.
They fight. Pike disarmes & tripps him downe.
P:
Onely a Devon shire, hugg sir,
at yor feete I lay my winnings.
Tia:
Diablo.
exit, biting his thumbs, ye soldiers stampe.
Gyr:
Wilt venter on another?
Pi:
I beseech you
to pardon me & taske me to no more.
Alq:
Come, come, one more, looke you, here's a yong Cockerell
comes crowing into ye pitt.
Another [OMITTED] steps in.
All.
prithee fight wt h him.
Pi:
I'me in ye Lyons gripe, & to gett from him
there's but one way, that's death.
Mac:
English, what say you? will you fight or no?
P:
Ile fight.
All:
give 'em roome, make way there.
P:
Ile fight till every Ioynt be cutt in pieces
to please such brave spectators; yes Ile fight
while I can stand, be you but pleasd, my Lords,
the noble Dukes here, to allow me choice
of my owne Country weapon.
All.
What?
P:
A Quarter staffe, this, were ye head off.
Mac:
Off wt h ye head, & roome. how dost thou like this Spaniard?
P:
Well, he's welcome; here's my old trusty frend, are there no more?
one? what, but one? why I shall make no play
no sport before my princely Iudges with one:
more sackes to ye Mill, come another, what, no more?
Mac:
How many wouldst thou have?
P:
Any number vnder six.
All:
Ha, ha, sure he's mad.
Mac:
Dar'st coape wt h Three?
P:
where are they? let 'em shew their faces, so, welcome.
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How dost thou like these Chickens?
Pi:
when I have drest them
wt h sorrell sopps Ile tell you.
They fight, one is killd, ye other .2. disarmd.
Drums.
Lad:
Now guard him heaven.
.1.
Hell take thy Quarter staffe.
.2.
pox on thy quarters.
Mac:
The matter? why this noyse?
A noyse wt hin of, Diablo Englese.
Iay:
The soldiers rayle, stampe, & stare, & sweare to cutt
his throat, for all ye Iaylors care of him.
Mac:
Make proclamation, my lord fernando,
that whosoever dares but touch his finger,
to hurt him, dyes.
Fer:
I will sir.
Exit.
Lad:
This is done nobly.
Mac:
Here, give him this gold.
Ten:
The Duke Macada, gives you this gold.
All.
And this.
Ten:
The Duke of Medina this, Duke Gyron, this; &, looke you,
the Marquesse Alqueveze as much as all ye rest.
Alq:
Where's any of my men? give him yor Cloake sirra,
fetch him cleane Band and Cuffes, I embrace thee, Pike,
& hugg thee in my armes; scorne not to weare
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Pi:
oh my lord, I am proud of't.
Mac:
He shalbe wt h a Convoy sent to the king.
Alq:
4. of my Gentlemen shall along wt h him,
Ile beare thy Charges, soldier, to Madrid,
5. pieces of .8. a day in travell, & lying still
thou shalt have halfe that.
Pi:
On my knees yor Vassaile,
thankes heaven, you, & these Princes.
Mac:
Breake vp ye Court till after noone, then ye .2. Gusmans tryall.
All:
Come English man.
Medy:
how we honor valor thus or loves expresse,
Thou hast a Guard of Dukes and Marquesses.
Exeunt, All.
| Dick of Devonshire | |