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Succumbent: recto soror est victoria iuris!

KING.

Thanks to my loving brother of Castille.

But, generall, vnfolde in breefe discourse

Your forme of battell and your warres successe,

That, adding all the pleasure of thy newes

Vnto the height of former happines,

With deeper wage and gentile dignitie

We may reward thy blisfull chiualrie.

GEN.

Where Spaine and Portingale do ioyntly knit

Their frontiers, leaning on each others bound,

There met our armies in the proud aray:

Both furnisht well, both full of hope and feare,

Both menacing alike with daring showes,

Both vaunting sundry colours of deuice,

Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums and fifes,

Both raising dreadfull clamors to the skie,

That valleis, hils, and riuers made rebound

And heauen it-selfe was frighted with the sound.

Our battels both were pitcht in squadron forme,

Each corner strongly fenst with wings of shot;

But, ere we ioyned and came to push of pike,

I brought a squadron of our readiest shot

From out our rearward to begin the fight;

They brought another wing to incounter vs;

Meane-while our ordinance plaid on either side,

And captaines stroue to haue their valours tride.

Don Pedro, their chiefe horsemens corlonell,

Did with his cornet brauely make attempt

To break our order of our battell rankes;

But Don Rogero, worthy man of warre,

Marcht forth against him with our musketiers

And stopt the mallice of his fell approach.

While they maintaine hot skirmish too and fro,

Both battailes ioyne and fall to handie blowes,

Their violent shot resembling th' oceans rage

When, roaring lowd and with a swelling tide,

It beats vpon the rampiers of huge rocks,

And gapes to swallow neighbor-bounding lands.

Now, while Bellona rageth heere and there,

Thick stormes of bullets ran like winters haile,

And shiuered launces darke the troubled aire;

Pede pes & cuspide cuspis,

Arma sonant armis vir petiturque viro;

On euery side drop captaines to the ground,

And souldiers, some ill-maimde, some slaine outright:

Heere falls a body sundred from his head;

There legs and armes lye bleeding on the grasse,

Mingled with weapons and vnboweled steeds,

That scattering ouer-spread the purple plaine.

In all this turmoyle, three long hovres and more

The victory to neither part inclinde,

Till Don Andrea with his braue lanciers

In their maine battell made so great a breach

That, halfe dismaid, the multitude retirde.

But Balthazar, the Portingales young prince,

Brought rescue and encouragde them to stay.

Heere-hence the fight was eagerly renewd,

And in that conflict was Andrea slaine,—

Braue man-at-arms, but weake to Balthazar.

Yet, while the prince, insulting ouer him,

Breathd out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproch,

Friendship and hardie valour ioyned in one

Prickt forth Horatio, our knight-marshals sonne,

To challenge forth that prince in single fight.

Not long betweene these twain the fight indurde,

But straight the prince was beaten from his horse

And forcst to yeeld him prisoner to his foe.

When he was taken, all the rest fled,

And our carbines pursued them to death,

Till, Phoebus waning to the western deepe,

Our trumpeters were chargd to sound retreat.

KING.

Thanks, good l[ord] general, for these good newes!

And, for some argument of more to come,

Take this and weare it for thy soueraignes sake.

Giue him his chaine.

But tell me now: hast thou confirmed a peace?

GEN.

No peace, my liege, but peace conditionall,

That, if with homage tribute be well paid,

The fury of your forces wilbe staide.

And to this peace their viceroy hath subscribde,

Giue the K[ING] a paper.

And made a solemne vow that during life

His tribute shalbe truely paid to Spaine.

KING.

These words, these deeds become thy person wel.

But now, knight-marhsall, frolike with thy king,

For tis thy sonne that winnes this battels prize.

HIERO.

Long may he liue to serue my soueraigne liege!

And soone decay unless he serue my liege!

A [trumpet] a-farre off.

KING.

Nor thou nor he shall dye