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 without reward. What meanes this 

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