every soldier
    Two ducats, and on every leader ten,
    That they may know our largesse welcomes them.

                  Exeunt all [the army] but BAL[THAZAR],
                  LOR[ENZO], and HOR[ATIO].

  KING. 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.

  BALT. 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 weakening to his realm;
    His colours seiz'd,—a blot unto his name;
    His son distress'd,—a corsive to his heart;
    These punishments may clear his late offence.

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

BALT. And I shall study to deserve this grace.

  KING. But tell me,—for their holding makes me doubt:
    To which of these twain art thou prisoner?

LOR. To me, my liege.

HOR. To me, my sovereign.

LOR. This hand first took his courser by the reins.

HOR. But first my lance did put him from his horse.

LOR. I seiz'd the weapon and enjoy'd it first.

HOR. But first I forc'd him lay his weapons down.

KING. Let go his arm, upon my privilege!

Let him go.

Say, worthy prince: to whether didst thou yield?

  BALT. To him in courtesy; to this perforce;
    He spake me fair, this other gave me strokes;
    He promis'd life, this other threaten'd death;
    He won my love, this other conquer'd me;
    And, truth to say, I yield myself to both.

  HIERO. But that I know your Grace is just and wise,
    And might seem partial in this difference,
    Enforc'd by nature and by law of arms,
    My tongue should plead for young Horatio's right.
    He hunted well that was a lion's death,
    Not he that in a garment wore his skin;
    So hares may pull dead lions by the beard.

  KING. Content thee, marshall; thou shalt have no wrong,
    And for thy sake thy son shall want to right.
    Will both abide the censure of my doom?

LOR. I crave no better than your Grace awards.

HOR. Nor I, although I sit beside my right.

  KING. Then by judgment thus your strife shall end:
    You both deserve and both shall have reward.
    Nephew, thou took'st his weapons and his horse:
    His weapons and his horse are thy reward.
    Horatio, thou did'st force him first to yield:
    His ransom therefore is thy valour's fee;
    Appoint the sum as you shall both agree.
    But, nephew, thou shalt have the prince in guard,
    For thine estate best fitteth such a guest;
    Horatio's house were small for all his train.
    Yet, in regard thy substance passeth his,
    And that just guerdon may befall desert,
    To him we yield the armour of the prince.
    How likes Don Balthazar of this device?

  BALT. Right well, my liege, if this proviso were:
    That Don Horatio bear us company,
    Whom I admire and love for chivalry.

  KING. Horatio, leave him not that loves thee so.
    Now let us hence, to see our soldiers paid,
    And feast our prisoner as our friendly guest.

Exeunt.

[ACT I. SCENE 2.]

[Portugal: the VICEROY'S palace.]

Enter VICEROY, ALEXANDRO, VILLUPPO.

VICE. Is our ambassador dispatch'd for Spain?

ALEX. Two days, my liege, are past since his depart.

VICE. And tribute payment gone along with him?

ALEX. Aye, my good lord.

  VICE. Then rest we here a-while in our unrest;
    And feed our sorrows with inward sighs,
    For deepest cares break never into tears.
    But wherefore sit I in a regal throne?
    This better fits a wretch's endless moan.
    Yet this is higher then my fortunes reach,
    And therefore better than my state deserves.

Falls to the ground.

    Aye, aye, this earth, image of melancholy,
    Seeks him whom fates adjudge to misery!
    Here let me lie! Now am I at the lowest!
    Qui jacet in terra non habet unde cadat.
    In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo,
    Nil superest ut jam possit obesse magis.
    Yes, Fortune may bereave me of my crown—
    Here, take it now; let Fortune do her worst,
    She shall not rob me of this sable weed.
    O, no, she envies none but pleasant things.
    Such is the folly of despiteful chance,
    Fortune is blind and sees not my deserts,
    So is she deaf and hears not my laments;
    And, could she hear, yet is she willful mad,
    And therefore will not pity my distress.
    Suppose that she could pity me, what then?
    What help can be expected at her hands
    Whose foot is standing on a rolling stone
    And mind more mutable then fickle winds?
    Why wail I, then, where's hope of no redress?
    O, yes, complaining makes my grief seem less.
    My late ambition hath distain'd my faith,
    My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars,
    Those bloody wars have spent my treasury,
    And with my treasury my people's blood,
    And with the blood my joy and best belov'd,—
    My best belov'd, my sweet and only son!
    O, wherefore went I not to war myself?
    The cause was mine; I might have died for both.
    My years were mellow, but his young and green:
    My death were natural, but his was forc'd.

ALEX. No doubt, my liege, but still the prince survives.

VICE. Survives! Ay, where?

ALEX. In Spain, a prisoner by mischance of war.

VICE. Then they have slain him for his father's fault.

ALEX. That were a breach to common law of arms.

VICE. They reck no laws that meditate revenge.

ALEX. His ransom's worth will stay from foul revenge.

VICE. No; if he liv'd, the news would soon be here.

  VILLUP. My sovereign, pardon the author of ill news,
    And I'll bewray the fortune of thy son.

  VICE. Speak on; I'll guerdon thee, whate'er it be.
    Mine ear is ready to receive ill