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But how chance, Manuell, your younger brother Is at the Goale before you? What, no Lady To please your eye? Man. I am not Yet weary of my freedome. May Henrico Meete Joy in his Election: yet I know not One I would sooner chuse to call a sister Than Eleonora. Pedr.
The like wish I, Don Pedro. Fer. Manuell, I hope You will not long breath out of Spanish ayre. Farewell! Pedr. My thanks to all. Stay! Fer. The Captaine of the Castle come to interpret That language to us? What newes? Enter Bustamente. Bust. Such as will make all Spaine dance in Canary. The Brasile fleete Pedr. Arriv'd? Bust.
You gave the English More glory by your base ignoble rendring That fort up then our Nation gott from them In all our undertakings. Bust. Heare me, my Lords, Mac. Sir, sir, w'have other anviles; Bustamente, Prepare your selfe for death. Bust. For all my service! All. Take him away! Bust. You are Lyons & I your prey. Mac. Which are Don Pedro's sons? Enter Fernando, Henrico, Manuell. Fer. These two.
I doe not like This kind of service: could I, by this tricke, Of a voice counterfeited & confessing The murther of my father, trusse up this yonker And so make my selfe heire & a yonger brother Of him, 'twere a good dayes worke. Wer't not fine angling? Hold line and hook: Ile puzzle him. Enter Manuell & Buzzano. Man. Morrow, brother. Hen. Oh, good morrow: you have slept soundly. Man.
My Lords, here's Don Fernando relates to me Two stories full of wonder; one of his daughter, Fam'd for her vertues, faire Eleonora, Accusing Don Henrico, youngest sonne To noble Pedro Guzman, of a rape; Another of the same Henrico's, charging His elder brother Manuell with the murther Of Pedro Guzman, who went late to France. Gyr. Are all the parties here? Fer. Enter Jaylour, Bustamente, Guard.
No, but I goe as I sleepe, & that's scurvily. Hen. Call my brother Manuell. Buz. Brother Manuell! Hen. Buz. I know not; may be ever since we were borne, for your father used to come home to my mother, & why may not I be a chipp of the same blocke out of which you two were cutt? Mothers are sure of their children, but no man is able to sweare who was his father. Hen. You are very lusty. Buz.
Enter Manuell to be rackt; Jaylour & Officers. Med. Don Manuell Guzman ere you taste the tortures, Which you are sure to feele, will you confesse This murther of your father? Man. Pray, give me privacy a little with my brother. Man. O brother your owne Conscience knowes you wrong me: Ile rather suffer on the Gallow Tree Then thus be torne in pieces.
I have heard, & thought you by what I had heard Free from feares passion: still continue soe, Depending on heavens mercy. Pike. Commend me to them, tell them & my frends That if I be, as I suspect I shalbe, At Sherris putt to death, I dyed a Christian soldier, No way, I hope, offending my iust King Nor my religion, but the Spanish lawes. Enter Don Pedro, reading a Letter, & Manuell. Man.
Twixt 12 & one? Buz. 12 & one? Then was I in my dead sleepe, cursing the fleas. Hen. Or about one & two. Buz. That's Three: Now the Beetle of my head beates it into my memory that as you & your brother Manuell lay in the high Bed, & I trondling underneath, I heard one of you talke most stigmatically in his sleepe most horriferously. Hen. Right, now thou com'st to me, so did I. Buz.
But where will you find such a wife on earth? Hen. No, such a wife in the Moone for me doth tarry: If none such shine here I with none will marry. Ten. The Lordes are come. Hen. I care neyther for Lords nor Ladies. Enter the Nobles as before; Fernando, Manuell, Clarke, Jaylor. Mac.
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