Chapter: [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 news,
    My heart grown hard 'gainst mischief's battery;
    Stand up, I say, and tell thy tale at large.

  VILLUP.  Then hear that truth which these mine eyes have seen:
    When both the armies were in battle join'd.
    Don Balthazar amidst the thickest troops,
    To win renown, did wondrous feats of arms;
    Amongst the rest I saw him hand-to-hand
    In single fight with their lord general.
    Till Alexandro, that here counterfeits
    Under the colour of a duteous friend,
    Discharg'd a pistol at the princes back,
    As though he would have slain their general,
    But therewithal Don Balthazar fell down;
    And when he fell, then we began to fly;
    But, had he liv'd, the day had sure been ours.

  ALEX.  O wicked forgery!  O trait'rous miscreant!

  VICE.  Hold thou thy peace!  But now, Villuppo, say:
    Where then became the carcass of my son?

  VILLUP.  I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents.

  VICE.  Aye, aye, my nightly dreams have told me this!
    Thou false, unkind, unthankful, traitorous beast!
    Wherein had Balthazar offended thee,
    That thou should betray him to our foes?
    Was't Spanish gold that bleared so thine eyes
    That thou couldst see no part of our deserts?
    Perchance, because thou art Terserae's lord,
    Thou hadst some hope to wear this diadem
    If first my son and then myself were slain;
    But thy ambitious thought shall break thy neck.
    Aye, this was it that made thee spill his blood!

                  Takes the crown and puts it on again.

    But I'll now wear it till thy blood be spilt.

  ALEX.  Vouchsafe, dread sovereign, to hear me speak!

  VICE.  Away with him!  his sight is second hell!
    Keep him till we determine his death.
    If Balthazar be dead, he shall not live.

                 [They take him out.]

    Villuppo, follow us for thy reward.

                 Exit VICE[ROY].

  VILLUP.  Thus have I with an envious forged tale
    Deceiv'd the king, betray'd mine enemy,
    And hope for guerdon of my villainy.

 The King of Spain enters with his brother the Duke of Castile, the Marshall Hieronimo, and a General. The King asks for a battle report, and the General declares that Spain achieved victory with little loss to itself. Portugal will honor Spain and its tribute. The King then requests a more detailed account of the military success and the General gladly obliges. After painting a picture of the battlefield in its poetic glory as well as its grim details, the General says that Don Andrea and his men fought so bravely as to push the Portuguese soldiers into retreat. The Portuguese prince, Balthazar, challenged Andrea and killed him, but Hieronimo's son Horatio, in turn, defeated Balthazar and took him prisoner, effectively assuring the Spanish victory. After hearing the good news reconfirmed, the King rewards the General with a chain. The latter states that a "peace conditional" has been reached with Portugal, whereby the Spanish forces will keep their peace so long as Portugal pays its tribute. The King then turns to Hieronimo and promises him and his son a reward. At this point a trumpet sounds, and the army files through the King's hall. Balthazar marches between Horatio and the Duke's son Lorenzo. The King calls for Balthazar to be brought before him and dismisses everyone else, granting every soldier two ducats and every leader ten as a reward. The Portuguese prince presents himself meekly before the Spanish King, who receives him magnanimously: Balthazar shall be kept in Spain, well and alive, though not at liberty per se. At this point the King asks whether it is Horatio or Lorenzo who holds Balthazar prisoner. The two argue over the privilege, each vaunting his own accomplishment in capturing the prince. While Balthazar submits himself to both of the young men, Hieronimo speaks in his son's favor. The King finally pronounces his decision: Lorenzo will hold Balthazar captive and receive his weapons and horse; Horatio will receive the prince's armor, as well as his ransom. Before retiring, the King encourages Horatio to visit Balthazar, as the prince seems to think very fondly of him

