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Helpe? what nightingale was that? did one cry out for helpe? there's no Christian soule in the house but they two & my selfe; and 'twas not mine, I know by the smallnes of the voice; twas some woman cryde out, & therefore can be none but my young Lady, it was she as sure as I am hungry; he's with her.
And then once or twice the sleepy voice cryde out, "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killd him!" Hen. Art sure thou heardst this? Buz. Am I sure these are my eares? Hen. And dar'st thou sweare thou heardst it? Buz. Lay downe 20 oathes, and see if Ile not take them. Hen. And whose voice was it did appeare to thee? Buz. Whose voice was it?
Gyr. Heard you this, sirra? Buz. As sure as I heare you now. Alq. And you'le be sworne 'twas he that so cryde out? Buz. If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare. Clark. Mac. All this is but presumption: if this be all The shott you make against him your bullets stick In a mud wall, or if they meete resistance They backe rebound & fly in your owne face. Med.
With much adoe I have brought 'em: the prowde Shellains Are paid too well, and that makes them forget We are their Masters. 1 Burg. But when we tooke them on, Famishd allmost for want of entertainement, Then they cryde out they would do any thing We would commaund them. 1 Cap. And so we say still, Provided it be honest. Giles.
Would we might now give them the selfe same cause To call us soe. The very name of Drake Was a Bugbear to fright Children; Nurses still'd Their little Spanish Nynnyes when they cryde "Hush! the Drake comes." All this must needs beget Their mortall hate to us. It did; yet then We lovd them beyond measure. Why? Why, did not Spaine fetch gold from the West Indies for us To spend here merrily?
Stand out: whither goe you? Buz. To stand out. Clark. Stand there. Mac. Now what can he say? Hen. First, my Lord, heare mee: My brother & I lying in one bed together, And he just under us Buz. In my fleabitten Trundle bed. Clark. Peace, sirra. Hen. About midnight I awaking, And this Buzzano too, my brother in his sleepe Thus cryde out, "Oh, twas I that murtherd him, This hand that killd him"!
Your care is noble, and I yeild best thankes; And 'tis but need, I tell your Seignioryes, For I have one hurt more then you have seene, As basely given & by a baser person: A Flemming seeing me led a prisoner Cryde, "Whither doe you lead that English dog, Kill, kill him!" cryde hee, "he's no Christian;" And ran me in the bodie with his halbert At least four inches deepe. Fer.
And St. George we cryde, Albeit, we heard, the Spanish Inquisition Was aboord every ship with torture, torments, Whipps strung with wyre, and knives to cutt our throates. But from the armed winds an hoast brake forth Which tare their shipps and sav'd ours. Thus I have read Two storyes to you; one, why Spayne hates us, T'other why we love not them. Oh, sir, I thank you. Ent.
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